Trust
by Sojamanic
Summary: Haven Academy is safe. The team is back together. Yet Yang stubbornly insists on facing her demons alone. Blake has been down that path and wants to save her from making the same mistakes. During a reverie gone wrong, they find themselves separated from the others. Yang and Blake will have to mend their broken faith in one another to make it back.
1. Insomnia

_Welcome to my first RWBY fic. This is a slightly canon-divergent side story that was conceived shortly before the V6 premier. It takes place during the two-week timespan following the events at Haven Academy. Constructive criticism and general feedback is always appreciated, and I hope that you, dear reader, will enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed coming up with it. —Soj_

* * *

 **I**

 **Insomnia**

* * *

It all began with a stinging pain in her absent hand.

Yang Xiao Long stirred in the long night and sat up to find herself alone in her quarters. She winced as she felt the beginnings of a headache, and she grasped at her scroll to check the hour. Its light pierced her eyes, the numbers _01:49_ glaring back, and it didn't take her eyes watering to mark that act down as a mistake. She deftly flicked the screen shut and laid back, letting the dark soak back into her scalded eyes.

Outside the window towered the shade of the Mistral skyline, its buildings and crags sparsely illuminated by the few lamps that smoldered in the small hours of the morning. Fragmented lunar light shone in through her window from a cloud blotched sky, as it often had back in idyllic Patch. As her mind drifted Yang thought of home, and her mind flit back to her father and how he might be fairing in her, _their_ , absence. She knew well that just because he put on a brave face when she left didn't mean that he didn't become an anxious mess an hour later.

After a few minutes staring off, Yang straightened her shirt and flopped back into her pillows, ready to again challenge the spectre of sleep. With resolve she slammed her eyelids shut and waited for drowsiness to come over her. On and off she scrunched her eyes as though the act of doing so would bid sleep to come, but the silence made it increasingly hard to relax. The noiselessness became loud, ringing, and it was drowned out only by the sound of her heartbeat thudding nervously in her ears. Her wakeful mind took that anxiety and betrayed her.

Blinding smoke. Bright yet glowering flames. Strident screaming. A flash of red. A searing pain. The smell of burning wood.

Her throat closed up. Her eyes snapped open. All desire to sleep had fled.

Though she knew she was as safe as she could hope to be, surrounded by her teammates and their friends and her sister and her uncle in this house, the dread that lingered in her core was something that only she could face.

And she didn't feel like facing it.

Yang grasped at the sheets. But when her fist closed around them, the blankets remained undisturbed. Yang puzzled for a moment on why, and then when the pain hit, she remembered her maimed arm. She eyed the shoulder, followed its line down to where her bicep suddenly terminated. She scoffed in spite of herself. How could she have forgotten? Sometimes it almost felt like it was still there. Then she'd look.

Her smile faded. She had to get out of here.

* * *

Yang suited up and donned her prosthetic arm. She still marveled at how such thing that was once unthinkable to her was now as much a part of a routine as brushing her teeth, or brushing out her enormous mane of blonde hair. Though it retained some scuffs from the brawl at Haven and the rigors of the road, it would seem new to any who didn't know better. Though it was bleeding edge Atlesian military technology, there was still the question of how soon it would need to be maintained, or if she would need to visit Atlas in the event of needing repairs. It was a gift, but it seemed like a loaded one at times.

Sneaking down the stairs and being mindful not to step on anything noisy or breakable or snoring, Yang stealthily reached the door and slipped out like a cat in the night. At the stoop she paused to stretch, embraced the cool air, then walked off towards the southern edge of town.

It was an arduous climb compared to her mostly flat terrained home. Even within the city, Mistral was fraught with steep hills. Domiciles and businesses of all sort were often built right into the cliff faces at some turns. Though it felt like a mountain hike more than a stroll, she persisted; a walk often helped her clear her head in older times, let her think without idling in a room, which bred restlessness for her.

Her other release was a ride on her beloved bike, but she dared not rev Bumblebee out of the consideration of her team.

Down a spiraling stairway carved out of a mountain's center she went, her feet pounding rhythmically upon the steps until she entered an almost meditative state. Out the tunnel she emerged at the base of the mount, out onto a dirt path.

As she continued, her bootheels sank further and further into the dirt path as the city center grew more remote, and before too long the treeline of the surrounding wood began to approach. With the moon and its fragments as bright as they were, it was not too difficult to see her surroundings. The warnings against being out in the woods alone at night were common wherever one went, but the Grimm near large cities were certainly not too much to handle on her own. Beowolves or Ursai, at worst. Just in case, she had her scroll and Ember Celica in stow.

The ambient light was made spotty by more than just clouds now; shadowy boughs hung overhead and further obscured the broken moonlight. Here Yang stopped and turned; Mistral lay somewhere beyond and below the hills further back. She was presently as far out as most people are willing to venture from civilization; only a few miles from the city limits, but more than far enough for the average citizen.

Her better judgment urged her to begin her return hike here, but Yang was curious as to why she hadn't seen any Grimm. Nothing so much as a Nevermore, in fact. Juvenile ones, at least, were everywhere.

"Weird," she said to herself, thinking out loud. Yang began to turn back towards the gloom when she heard a twig break. She whirled in place, gauntlet deployed with a familiar series of metal clicks. Her eyes widened to their limits in the deeping night, but she was still unable to spot anything in the shadows.

 _Stop being so jumpy,_ she thought. _It was probably just an animal._

Yang thought about heading back, but the idea of being alone with her thoughts again was enough to freeze her feet in place. Her indecision bubbled its way to the surface, and she looked at her hands as she balled them into tight, trembling fists.

Was this what she was reduced to? Being afraid of the visions in her head? If she couldn't face her inner fears, how could she hope to face the terrors that surely lay ahead?

The howling face of Salem, conjury though it was, flashed vividly in her memory.

She broke her dark reverie and snapped her eyes back to the edge of the path. Movement again. A silhouette too big to be a raccoon, as her fevered mind randomly imagined. It stiffened as it was noticed and began to inch away. Yang fought an urge to shoot off her weapon and opened her mouth to yell at the figure, but she was interrupted by it before the words could form.

"Yang," it called. She jerked back at the voice, familiar and cool, but strange still. The dark dissolved and Blake's pale features came into view beneath the dappled light. "What are you doing out here?"

"That's my line, Blake," she said, following a scoff. "How long have you been stalking me?"

Blake raised her hands defensively. "I wasn't st—" Her voice trailed off, and she seemed to think better of denying it. "Since you left the house," Blake sighed. "I was up already, reading," she continued, "and I heard you tossing around in the next room. Then, I heard the door. I went to check and make sure that everything was alright, then one thing led to another and… here we are." She shrugged.

"Huh," the blonde intoned. "Okay." Yang went nonchalant and put her hands behind her head. She wasn't surprised that Blake was able to track her even with the lead she thought she had, but it didn't make her feel better about being caught.

"You're upset, aren't you?" Blake's ears pinned back and forth. It was hard for Yang to determine whether it was an emotional reaction or if something else beyond her perception was taking Blake's interest.

"You think?" Yang said in a way that didn't expect an answer.

Blake fixed her eyes on Yang and searched for clues in her face. The blonde was not at liberty to do the same; the faunus had her at a disadvantage in the dark. But Yang didn't need night vision to sense her mutual unease.

"Yang, we should go back," said Blake as she drew her hands around her shoulders. Her eyes darted around. "If there's something that's bothering you, I'll gladly listen." Blake tried not to look at the sliver of light reflected by Yang's metal fingers. "I'm sure you've had a lot to process since Beacon, and I owe you the time to share it." She stopped herself. "If you want to."

It was harder for Yang to put up a wall of cheer around her emotional injuries after everything that had happened. She tried to form a skewed smile, but it never quite reached her eyes, which gave her a sardonic air.

"What's there to tell?" Yang deflected, palms upward. "I recovered. I came out to join Ruby. And I found the rest of my team along the way." She stalked a step in no particular direction. "It looks like we've all had our struggles getting to this point; why should I cry to you about mine?"

Blake put a hand to her lips. It was clear that that wasn't the answer she was expecting to her offer. She should have known it wasn't going to be so simple to regain the easy rapport they once had. Her feline ears couldn't keep from betraying her disappointment.

"Because," Blake said nervously, "that's what friends should do. Friends, teammates. Two things I haven't been very good at being lately." Her words seemed to gain resolve as she went along, and this reflected in her posture; she straightened up and held her head a little higher. "I spent a lot of time acting like a lone wolf, Yang, and I know now that I don't have to do that. I just never wanted to involve anyone else in the ugly things that followed me. But I…" She considered the wisdom of her next words and persisted anyway. "I'm seeing you fall into the same trap I was in. It's like you think you have to deal with things on your own."

Yang folded her arms, unconvinced. "Well, maybe that's just because I had to _adjust_ to dealing with things on my own." She was none too subtle about what she was referring to. The unvarnished guilt on Blake, from the slump of her shoulders and the way she protected her body with one arm to the cast out look in her eyes said that she got the message loud and clear.

Yang stared hard, but she realized that couldn't stand the sight of it. Her stomach knotted and she sighed.

"You don't have to feel like you're responsible for this." Yang's fingers drummed a jingle out against her steely forearm. "I lost my cool and I paid for it." A smile formed, less sarcastic and more resigned. "I'm lucky I didn't pay with my head. When I heard you yell, I just… saw red."

"Stop." Blake dared to shove Yang, if just lightly. "Just stop it. No more dead friends. No… dead you." Her hand slid down the sleeve of Yang's jacket and her fingertips glanced over the cold prosthesis. Her eyes welled up, and whatever veneer of control Blake had put up fell away.

"I am so sorry," she said, her normally mellow voice cracking.

"Blake…"

Yang took hold of Blake's wrist and massaged the heel of her hand. The stony cast in her lavender eyes softened and went unfocused. Her mouth parted to speak but words failed, stopped short by something else. The air went tense in a way that raised the hairs on her neck, but not because of the discussion. Red points, like eyes, gathered in the gloom.

* * *

Where the wood had been near to silent, now there were snarls rumbling out from somewhere just beyond perception.

"Hey, dry your eyes," Yang said wryly. "I'm gonna need them."

Blake by now had sensed the change in the air as well, certainly heard the cacophony of hostile sounds around them. She dragged her sleeve across her face and stowed her melancholy, and through bleary eyes she scanned the boughs and underbrush.

"There are a dozen nevermores that I can see. Just as many beowolves are gathered as well." Blake's breath hitched, as though she feared the sound of her words. "Why? We're too close to the city for there to be this many."

"Qrow did say Mistral's seen a lot of its huntsmen go missing," Yang whispered. "I guess this is one of the things that happens when you don't have 'em around. The pest population explodes." It was all Yang could do to keep herself from slapping her head and calling herself stupid for even taking this little expedition in light of that. "Let's try to go back."

Blake gave a hum and a nod and began to lead.

The Grimm in the woods were not having it.

The beat of wings in the treetops grew louder and more restless, and one caw became many as the nevermores took wing. These were small, but numerous; they swooped on the two huntresses with talon and beak. Young and inexperienced, these Grimm had their lives summarily cut short by shotgun blast and whirling blades. As quickly as it began, the skirmish was ended. Only one survivor remained, and it flew off complaining loudly until its scolding disappeared somewhere further to the south. Blake and Yang stood back to back, black mist and frayed feathers dissolving around them.

"What now?" Blake asked. Her eyes darted at the sound of a beowolf's howling.

"Fight everything I just woke up? Nah. Let's go. Go!"

They took off in a sprint, trying to put as much ground between themselves and the gathering barks as they could. At first they were shoulder to shoulder, but Blake inevitably began leading. Her natural agility combined with her night vision gave her the crucial extra awareness that someone like Yang lacked to make sure they weren't stepping into a snagging root.

Such as she did.

Yang rattled her skull as she hit the dirt. The grit got between her teeth as she scrambled to her knees. Blake's hand found her own and hoisted her to her feet. Yang ignored the dull ache in her ankle and hoped it would go away sooner than not.

The sound of snapping teeth was practically in her ears. Yang did as she would and blasted the first trees she saw on her nearside, bringing them down. The crash of canopies broke up the pack of feral Grimm and slowed them, if only a bit. It gave them a good lead and the baying grew more and more remote until it couldn't be heard over the huntresses' combined panting.

The girls crested the last hill in the wood and saw the stretch back towards Mistral. They were still a ways off but relief was in sight.

"You're limping," Blake said raggedly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah!" Yang grimaced, knowing her act was transparent. "Peachy. I'll just—" A pause, a wince. "—ice it down when we get back to the house..."

A chorus of howls was reminder enough that though they were out of the forest, they were not out of the woods. They took off again up the road.

"You followed me all this way out of town and you couldn't be bothered to tell me you were there sooner?"

"I didn't want to—I didn't want to make you mad." Blake turned her eyes away, feeling that guiding the way was a good excuse for it. "I'm surprised you didn't sense me sooner. Wait!" She stopped, her boots kicking up dust. "Can you hear that?"

Yang came to a halt alongside Blake and sharpened her ears. She darted her eyes around, unsure of what she was trying to hear. "The beowolves gave up?"

"Yeah, but that's not…"

A tremor rippled beneath their feet.

"What in the—!"

Blake threw herself into Yang just as the road heaved upward where they stood. As they tumbled down the incline back the way they came, a dark, sinuous shape erupted from the newly formed pit. On their feet again, the huntresses saw themselves reflected in the blood red eyes of a monstrous snake, its forked tongue sampling the shock and fear from between its fanged maw.

Yang allowed herself to gape at the biggest King Taijitu she had ever laid eyes on, then she shook her head out of the stupor. "I know they say that the space between kingdoms is dangerous. But things out here are worse than anyone said. A King Taijitu on the kingdom's doorstep!?"

Gambol Shroud was out and ready. "We'll have to slay it," Blake intoned.

* * *

The two girls stood opposite of where they wanted to be. Before them the giant Grimm reared as it seemed to evaluate them. Its form rippled and it began to pull its body further out of the hole.

"Don't let it get out!"

Yang dug her heels in and fired the first shots. "Got it!" she yelled, while the spray of her attack glanced off of the Taijitu's armored face; it did little damage, but it accomplished what Yang needed it to and got the serpentine Grimm to lunge at her first. She launched herself towards the snake and fired her gauntlets groundward, giving her further altitude and overextending the foe's balance.

Blake took advantage of the opening and went for the exposed throat. She pounced, diving in and out of the shadow and whirling by. Four lines ripped open on the grimm's skin and spewed black mist. Above, Yang's guns boomed and shots panged. She balanced precariously on the serpent's back, clumsiness owed to her bruised ankle. The snake opened its mouth wide and struck with all its fangs.

There was a bang, and in the clearing smoke it snapped only its own flesh, causing it to jump and flail in whatever analogue of pain Grimm were capable of feeling. Again, Blake took another pass, and again she struck in nearly the same spot as last time, leaving a criss-cross of hissing wounds. Yang came down like a meteor on the Grimm's head, causing the massive skull to bounce off the ground just as Blake cleared it. Yang landed beside her, and she heaved a breath she had been holding.

"I forgot how tough these guys could be," she snarled.

"I take it you haven't fought any Grimm in a while?"

Yang looked momentarily embarrassed. "Nope. But watch me!" She pounded her fists together. "It'll be like riding a bike!"

Blake nodded, and the two lunged forward. She broke left, and Yang went right. They both then dove in at the stunned creature's head. Blake's unsheathed blade sank into the snake's garnet eye. Its reaction was cut short by the impact of an uppercut that sent it reeling back. The snake recovered more quickly than previously, and it struck this time at Blake. Its jaws came down on her, or rather, a substitute of her. The brief confusion let her strike a slashing blow to its snout as she faded back.

Yang came down on its skull again like a comet. White chips of bony plates went flying as her metal fist breached the Taijitu's armor. But annoy it is all that did, and it flicked Yang up into the air.

Blake reacted and threw her blade at Yang. It changed forms midflight as she held the tether, and Yang was adroit enough to catch the weapon with only a slight fumble. Blake yanked her out of the path of closing jaws once again, and when she landed, Yang lunged again, keeping momentum.

"Bring us around!" Yang shouted, and Blake smirked as she cottoned onto what the blonde was doing. Of one mind in the moment, Blake hung on and let Yang accelerate with her gauntlet, turning her into a golden-haired wrecking ball as they had a number of times before.

The impact shattered the remnants of the Taijitu's face plating and convinced the snake that nothing was worth the trouble these two huntresses had given it. With a hiss of resignment it pulled itself back into the pit.

Yang tumbled and landed next to Blake. "Now's our chance!"

"Yang, wait—!"

Blake found herself scooped up and flying through the air as Yang tried to get them both past the serpent's hole, just in case it decided it wanted to go another round.

The ground exploded as before, but shortly behind them. The percussive force threw off Yang's trajectory, and she twisted to land on her back and shield Blake from the impact. They tumbled apart and rose to their feet, ready to break. Before Yang, out of the dust cloud, screamed the white half of the King Taijitu, mouth open and fangs bared.

They closed around her.

Blake restrained her horror and leveled Gambol Shroud at the beast, loosing several shots into its face. She sighed in relief when she saw Yang was still there, her hands seized around the snake's fangs and boots braced against the lower jaw. Her metal hand shattered the fang it closed around, and Yang proceeded to fire several shots into the snake's throat. Its mouth contorted as it refused to loosen its grip, but also failed to shut on the huntress.

They seemed to have the upper hand, up to the moment that Blake noticed how the King Taijitu's muscles rippled in retrograde—that the snake was about to dive back into its burrow, her teammate in tow.

She lunged forward and threw her blade out once again, ribbon streaming behind it. She timed the trigger on it such that it wound around Yang's waist like a grappling hook. And as she expected, the albinic head began to sink backwards. Yang had noticed and discharged two shots to discourage it just enough to bolt out, and she succeeded.

Momentarily. The fangs seized on her injured ankle, and Yang let out a cry of surprise as she jerked backwards. The unbearable force continued to pull her downwards until she disappeared past the mouth of the pit.

Blake dug in her heels. "No!" she shouted as though the Taijitu might comply, and she wound the ribbon again over her forearm. The faunus pulled back with all her force, but the soil beneath her could not bear them and she left deep gouges in the earth.

Yang's shots continued to ring out and red light flashed in the dark, clear that she was trying to get loose. The ground, weakened by the burrowing, could not bear the weight of Yang, Blake and the snake. It crumbled, and they all went tumbling into the abyss.


	2. Rekindling

**II**

 **Rekindling**

* * *

If the forest was dark then this chasm was the gateway to the God of Darkness' domain.

Suspended in the air, Yang felt the rival pressures of the King Taijitu's jaws seized about her right ankle and Blake's ribbon round her waist. Her aura held firm against the tearing fangs of the giant snake, and though it saved her from adding a leg to the tally of limbs lost, the effort was sapping her strength.

As she dangled and spun around at the end of Blake's line, Yang pumped her arm and launched shot after shot at the white face of the snake until her gauntlet clicked and wheezed, spent as she was becoming. She felt her semblance burning, but the question was of landing a clean hit. There was no chance of that while she was flailing in the air.

Yang seized on the wall and _made_ a handhold in the rocky face, and she thrust her free foot against the grimm's snout. It did not relent and whipped its sinews instead. Yang's frustration began to boil over; she threw another series of kicks. "Get—the—Hell—off!"

As if responding to her words, the ground above broke apart and came tumbling down, Blake among the debris.

The line slackened, and the tumbling ground pulled her free from her hold on the rock face.

The light of the moon vanished above. Yang could only sense Blake as she dove past her, the tethered blade unwinding from her waist and returning to its owner's hands in the murk. Here, Blake Belladonna was in her demesne, and metallic crescents sparked as her blades crossed over the Taijitu's scales over and over; a precise stroke cut out one eye, and razor sharp blades left scars the rest of the way over its back. A few gunshots lit up the black, aimed at the newly opened breaches in the creature's tough scales. It had enough of the cuts, which did not stop so long as Blake leapt from one shadow copy to another.

In the freefall it was impossible for Yang to tell which direction was up. She shut her eyes, felt it out, and she fired a shot from her arm cannon that halted most of the tumbling.

Soon she felt another force. This one was the opposite of the grimm; strong, yet gentle, nimble, and she knew Blake had found her.

"Hang on" she yelled against the whistling in Yang's ears. "Brake when I give you the signal!"

Yang grunted in response, throwing in a nod in case Blake see. Without the rush of air, Yang could not tell if they were in empty space or not. There was a loud bang that came up from beneath them—the snake, hitting solid bedrock, and Blake tensed and shouted.

"Now!"

Yang aimed her right arm against the wind and fired her cannon. She fired as fast as she could until the air slowed, then stopped. They hung in the air, then they hit an incline. It was too steep to keep from sliding, and on they went until a few bends took them to an opening that coughed them up into a large, airy chamber.

"Brace!" Blake said again, and with that they hit the ground on their feet, hard, but alive. Each one of them tumbled and regained their footing in her own style. Yang quickly drew her scroll and toggled the the torchlight on it.

Before her laid the wounded grimm. The snake, harrowed and unable to save itself from the impact of the fall, writhed in an uncoordinated daze. Disbelief wrote itself on Yang's face, and Blake expressed a similar sentiment.

"It's still up?"

"This one's stubborn!"

Yang cast her lit scroll to the ground and went to correct this mistake of nature. Blake had already more than had her say on it. Dozens of cuts marred its pale face with wounds bleeding black mist. A grotesque hollow stared back where once there was a garnet eye. Yet it seemed to pick up on Yang. Her anger, perhaps? She tried to temper it. Fighting Grimm again, after almost a year, felt nostalgic to her, but the days where she could be cavalier about it were over.

"Punching this thing doesn't seem to do much good—"

It lunged suddenly, mouth distended, hideously hissing.

Yang jerked towards its blinded side and whirled out of the way. She fired from her wrist once, accelerating her spin, and in the same motion, her heel extended and sunk into the serpent's face. Her body shed a flash of golden light on impact, and the crack of scale and bone echoed with her wheeling kick. The King Taijitu tumbled several meters in an instant, its skull flattening against the stone wall. It fell to the cave floor like a tenderized piece of meat, 100% dead.

"—but I _never_ skip leg day, either."

She tossed her hair to look nonchalant and hide the ache in her ankle, all while reminding herself not to lead with a sprained ankle next time she decides to roundhouse a Grimm the size of a delivery truck.

Blake's eyes rolled towards the ceiling. A sound of shifting rocks and soil perked her ears in the echoing hall and she tensed, ready to dive. Earthen debris came down from the high ceiling, but no boulders. It stopped and if a cave in had occurred, it was in a separate chamber.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Blake narrowed her eyes at the more imminent danger and gripped her weapon's hilt..

The black head of the snake yet remained, and though it would soon die off with its colorless twin deceased, Blake wasn't leaving it to chance. She had been all about tying up loose ends in the last several weeks; why stop now? She bounded past Yang, airborne, her momentum carrying her to and along the winding serpent's back, pulling her blade free from its blade-like hilt. Blake was not here to show off, but she wasn't about to be upstaged, either.

It knew it was all but finished, and the priorly injured end of the deposed Taijitu faced its fate. It spitefully attempted to swallow Blake whole as she crested the slope of its back.

Its jaws shut like a trap, the sound of it booming. The fangs found only a substitute.

It spun and lunged towards its flank, a predictive attack, and for its effort it was rewarded with Gambol Shroud's matched blades driven up into the underside of its jaw.

Blake twisted the blades and pulled open a grisly wound. The monster's hissing turned to a gargle, and then nothing. A sound of sand running through a thousand hourglasses followed, and the weight the Grimm put on the air dissolved with it.

* * *

Yang allowed herself a long held breath. Short-lived relief. Their fight was over but they were still deep in some cave where even more Grimm may lurk. She followed the light of her scroll and picked it up.

She didn't even think twice about dialing Ruby.

Calling…

Calling…

Ended.

"We're pretty far from the city," Blake said as she rejoined Yang. "And underground. Even with local comms up the signal's too weak down here."

"Yeah," she sighed, closing her scroll, "I knew that." Craning her head back, Yang attempted to find where exactly they had entered the cavern from. The ceiling was not visible with what little light she had. "How far did we fall, anyway? I can't see a damn thing." She waved her scroll's light about.

"Some hundred meters, maybe." Blake turned in place as she scanned the proximity. She stops and takes a step forward. "Over there. It looks like…" Her voice dropped. "It looks like a mine shaft."

Yang puzzled at the change in Blake's voice. "Yeah, so? That means there's a way out, right?"

She glanced at Yang, her eyes reflecting the scroll's light like electrum. "If we can find an access tunnel, we could walk out of here." She cast her eyes down. "If the entrance isn't sealed off."

"You leave that to me." Yang flexed the fingers on her right hand, hinting at her idea of a solution. "That King Tai had have a way to get in here," Yang thought aloud. "What's a forest Grimm doing down here anyway?"

"There are probably tunnels closer to the surface," said Blake. "Or, it was lurking in that spot for some time and the collapse happened just now when it attacked us." There was no shortage of loose rocks and soil where they had fallen in from.

Blake looked away. "If we are in an old mine, it's probably from the time of the Great War." Her catlike ears folded. "A lot of faunus died working in the Dust mines back in those days, back when slavery was just a part of life in Mistral."

"Yeah…" Yang anxiously grabbed at the back of her neck. "Let's hurry up and find a way out of here," she sighed, walking in the direction that Blake indicated.

In the black they walked. Yang's scroll, minimized and clipped to her jacket's collar, softly illuminated the area just around her, but it was useless for detecting anything beyond her arm's reach. She was lucky that Blake was not only awake, but concerned enough to follow her out of the house and on her ill-advised walk. A mote of guilt quickened in her gut, but she tried to keep her eyes forward and mind focused on escaping this pit.

"Yang?" Blake was not more than two steps behind her.

"Hey! Maybe you should take the lead," she quickly replied. "You've got the eyes, after all."

Blake walked around Yang, her eyebrows askew. Her lips parted briefly, as though she were about to speak, but she said nothing.

On they walked. Rotted wooden supports arched across the seemingly endless tunnel. Uncomfortably, they appeared as though any one of them could have given way to a cave in. Some were already broken, but the shape of the tunnel yet held. Torch pickets lined the walls, bronze lamps unlit now for generations. Occasionally, they would come across the rusted over head of a pickaxe or shovel, or some other hand tool used in the unending pursuit of Dust. Blake's eyes frequently went to these artifacts, and her thoughts to the owners that once worked them.

The ache in her ankle flared with the slight incline of the tunnel. They were going up, ever so slightly. Half an hour passed before they came to a bend. The tunnel doubled back and went slightly upwards in the direction that they had come from. Blake leaned out here and switched her ears back and forth.

"We're headed in the right direction. I can hear the wind, though it's still pretty far." She paid a moment to examine Yang's stance. "We should rest."

"We should press on," Yang muttered.

"Yang." Blake turned to her. "Your ankle's still hurt, isn't it?"

Yang took an exasperated breath through her nose. "You take a few licks from a giant snake and fall into the earth and walk away from it all, but a root catches you off guard and the does what the Grimm couldn't. Ironic, huh?"

Blake furrows her brows. "That's not iro—" She shook her head and began to fold her arms, but stopped and clenched her hands instead. "Yang. Do you remember what you told me once? About slowing down and taking care of yourself?"

"Huh? This is different!" Yang raised her voice. "We're in a _mine_ with no line to the surface! This isn't the place to sit down or take it easy!"

"Yeah," Blake said quickly. "Maybe you're right. But I…" Her voice wavered. "I am not going another step. Not until you do."

Yang stared, and her voice came like a whisper compared to her previous tone. "Blake, I'm not a little kid. You've been back with us for a couple of days and you're trying to tell me how to take care of myself?"

Blake kept staring. Her lips pressed tight, but her eyes said it. Yang gradually began to feel small, and finally, knowing Blake was right, she took a hobbled step back.

"Fine," she sulked. Her next step back brought her flush with the wall of the corridor's bend, and she eased herself down onto the dirt. Yang stretched her legs out and, with folded arms, stared ahead. Quietly, Blake went to the opposite wall and almost mirrored her. She glanced at Yang for a moment, then off towards the end of the tunnel they were meant to take.

* * *

Yang started awake. The first thing she became aware of was the pain in her neck, like the sort one gets from sleeping in a way people are not meant to sleep. She jerked her head back and forth, wringing hollow pops from her joints. Yang let her tongue hang out, which turned into a yawn. The chill of the old mine was fresh on her nose and fingertips.

Her eyes went to Blake.

Blake wasn't there.

Yang jerked her legs out and shuffled to her feet. The sprain in her ankle was reduced to little more than a dull pain, a days old bruise at worst. But her recovery was the last thing on her mind.

"Blake?" she said, voice raised. Her voice swirled away into the dark and got no response. "Blake!" She yelled this time. Only the echoes answered.

The leather of her gloves creaked beneath the pressure of her clenched fists. Yang took a trembling breath between her set teeth, hot tears welling up in her scarlet eyes. Not again. _Not again._

Her rational mind tugged at her instincts, plying for peace. Yang steadied her breaths and began to think things through. With it her panic subsided, but her anger simmered beneath the surface.

Yang took her scroll and dialed Blake.

She got an answer almost immediately.

 _[Hello?]_

 _[Blake. Where did you go?]_

 _[Farther up the path. It leads to an elevator shaft. It doesn't work anymore but climbing it shouldn't be difficult for us.]_

 _[I'm coming to you. Stay there.]_

Yang ended the call abruptly. She spent the next several minutes debating her choice words for whenever she saw Blake. A not insignificant part of her wanted to open up with a full-voiced complaint. She thought she had worked through it, yet nearly a year of resentment was bottled up in her heart and she _hated it_. But it was there, and she knew grudgingly that her temper was her worst enemy, and it was also her greatest motivator. Blake, for some reason, pushed all her buttons and sent her systems haywire. Blake was her own girl—no, woman. And Yang understood better than most the desire for independence. She might even say that it was pushed upon her. Yet, when others expressed it, _especially_ Blake, it felt like she was being shunned.

Ruby and Weiss' faces came into her thoughts. What wouldn't she give for either of them? Her sister, her team, her friends?

"Yang, over here," called Blake from the shadows.

Yang followed the voice, and the light pinned to her jacket gradually lit up Blake's face. She smiled at her. "Feeling better?"

Yang squeezed her hands together and approached Blake. Her eyes must have flashed because Blake suddenly looked guarded. Face to face, Yang put her hands on Blake's shoulders and squeezed lightly. The gesture helped her calm down, as did the sensation of Blake's hands going to her arms.

"Don't scare me like that again," she whispered.

Blake looked bewildered at Yang's words, but before too long the meaning behind them sank in and her ears flattened. "Oh. I'm sorry…" She grimaced slightly. "You dozed off. I… I know you've been having trouble sleeping, and there was your ankle, also. So I left you alone, and I just went to scout the path ahead."

She slipped her hands up Yang's arms, to her shoulders. She noticed a streak from a tear on the side of the taller huntress' face.

"I was going to come back." Blake managed that smile again. "I promise."

Yang let go of Blake and she did in kind. She ran her hands through her messy golden locks and bunched it all behind her shoulder.

"Listen, Yang." Blake lowered her eyes. "I don't know what you went through since I… left," she said, putting lingering sheepishness on the last word. "You. I—"

"Stop." Yang put a finger up. "All that matters is that... we're together now." It was something she needed to tell herself, too. She felt the anger go out with a puff. "We'll have plenty of time to catch up, but only when we get out of here."

Blake gave one last smile to that. "Right. So…" She gestured towards the large elevator platform, or what remained of it. A large shaft ran upwards and down from where they stood.

Yang and Blake looked up and considered the task before them.


	3. Ascent

**III**

 **Ascent**

* * *

The elevator room seemed to be a central hub in the dilapidated mine, made for moving equipment, large groups of people, and hauls of Dust quickly from the depths to the surface. At the top, Blake reckoned, was some sort of facility. The room itself was large, and the elevator shaft was recessed into the wall. Four other tunnels branched out from the chamber. The light of Yang's scroll was not focused enough to penetrate far into the gloom below, and Blake's keen eyes, though sharp in the dark, had nothing to report about its depth, either, save for that it was deep, and venturing further below was not in the cards. On that much, Yang and Blake were of the same mind.

"I wonder how far down this mine goes," said Blake, leaning over the edge just slightly. The sight of it made Yang queasy, no matter how surefooted Blake was known to be.

"Where's the cabling?" Her eyes ran up the opposite end of the elevator shaft. Yang was handy and knew just enough about engineering to be dangerous. Elevators were basic. Pulleys and stuff. "If we had that, we could just climb."

"I don't know if I'd trust my life to hundred year old cables. Besides, we still can. Elevators this big need to bear a heavy load." Blake raised a fingertip towards the sides of the elevator shaft. "There are tracks to it." Yang shone her light where she indicated and saw four large metal tracks vertically along the shaft, grooved to accept the teeth of a large gear.

"We can use those as a ladder, huh?" Yang rolled her shoulders and limbered up, her confidence suddenly back. Being able to bounce from leg to leg without a sharp pain helped a lot with that.

Blake put a hand to her chin. "Yes, but. Wait a minute."

"Huh?" Yang stopped bouncing. "Why? Don't you want to get out of here?"

"Of course I do," she sighed. "But what if the elevator platform is still at the _top_ of this shaft?"

Yang took a second to ponder that, mirroring Blake's thoughtful stance. "Good question," she said, skewing her lilac eyes towards the ceiling. Her arm cannon suddenly popped out of its shroud, startling Blake. "And there's the answer."

"Ugh." Blake slid her hand up her face. "You're such a brute."

"Thanks for the input, Weiss," Yang said with a broadening grin. "Now, are we gonna climb out of here or not?" But that was a rhetorical question; Yang was already taking the measured jump to the first of the four rails. Now it was Blake's turn to feel queasy at the sight of it.

"... I do _not_ sound like Weiss." Blake easily cleared the airspace between herself and the rail that Yang chose to ascend. It certainly felt like it would stand the test of time; the metal did not move an inch from the wall and easily bore their weight. The act of climbing was as simple as that of ascending a ladder, and like that the two huntresses began making their way to the surface.

* * *

If it wasn't for the light glinting off the other steel tracks, Yang would have thought that she was climbing a ladder in empty space.

Beneath her yawned the abyss. Literally anyone would advise not to look down, but Yang did it without prompting. She was never scared of heights, but the mere appearance of there being no end to the drop set her hairs on end.

"Anything yet?" Blake called from a few feet below Yang, her words echoed in the dark.

"Nothing yet," said Yang. She leaned away from the rail a bit to see if she could see anything. "Wait a minute…"

They at last came to another floor in the mine. There was a door on this one, a large industrial gate, or the remains of one. The wood was rotted and rusted iron wire crisscrossed the space between the beams. Its two parts looked loosely shut. Yang hopped across the chasm and landed precariously on the threshold. From there she tried to pry the doors apart, but found that they were latched together.

She unlatched it with a blast from her arm cannon.

Now they slid apart, but with great difficulty still. They screeched on their bearings as Yang pulled them apart inch by inch. Blake leapt into the opening, and Yang slipped in behind her.

"I need a breather," puffed Yang, flapping her arms across her chest.

"Go ahead." Blake's eyes scanned the chamber. "Maybe there are more clues about this mine here."

"Might as well take a look," said Yang. She placed her arms behind her head, loosening her joints audibly, and followed Blake.

The chamber was like the one they had started from, with openings to other tunnels and a high and vaulted ceiling, as well as what looked like a broad shack propped up on stilts against the wall. A skeletal stairwell led up to a rust colored door.

"That looks like the mine's office," said Blake with a point towards the structure. After a moment's thoughts, Blake suddenly brightened. "There should be a map of the mine in there!"

* * *

The door to the old office was little more than a sheet of riveted metal with a port cut out at the top for greeting undesirables and demanding a password, or such was Yang's imagining. Blake tried the door handle only to find that it wouldn't budge, not even a little. It was as though the whole assembly was rusted together.

No matter.

The door clattered a few feet away after Yang had her say with it, a fist-sized dent distorting its once rigid construction. Maybe she was a brute, but Yang was good for making an entrance. Blake walked in among a fog of dust that had lain undisturbed for perhaps a century. She began to cough and as she choked on the acrid dust her thoughts drifted to the people and the hardships that were all but certainly suffered in this place.

The room was as cold as the rest of the mine and obviously unoccupied for decades. A low desk occupied the far corner of the room, and across from it was a long table scuffed with knife marks and deep gouges from years of having tools dropped and dragged on top of it.

The floor creaked precariously, but it seemed strong enough to sustain Blake's modest weight. It complained a bit louder beneath Yang's more robust bootfalls. Realizing the age and fragility of the structure, Blake looked at Yang disapprovingly, who had but a shrug to answer with.

Blake then went about searching the desk and its accompanying cabinet for information. Yang put her attention on the large central table, examining the various marks inflicted on it over its lifetime of service. She noted the tally marks carved into its face.

"You seem to know your way around," Yang said, suddenly.

Blake hesitated. "Half guessing... and luck," she said haltingly. She practically felt it as Yang crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes. She paused her rummaging, fingertips twitching. "It's not my first time in a mine."

"Yeah, seems that way. Is that why you've been acting weird you noticed it was one?"

Blake looked up and faced Yang from across the room. She searched for words instead of documents now. "I..." Her ears folded and she used the search for clues as a reason to break eye contact with Yang.

"Fine," Yang huffed, her arms folded. "Guess that's too much to ask."

Blake sighed. She began, slowly. "It comes from my time in the White Fang. Many of the recruits either work or used to work in Dust mines. Or they knew someone who did." The unspoken culprit for the malcontent there being, they both knew, the _Schnee Dust Company_. "Faunus laborers are made to work in the most dangerous conditions. There were always accidents, injuries—deaths, most of them preventable. Many of them had a chip on their shoulder and used the White Fang as a vehicle for revenge, a way to punch up at their abusers." Blake took a breath. "I may have been involved in a few raids myself." She seemed to find something of importance, and she held a folded up piece of parchment to her eye's level.

Yang shook her head.

Blake frowned, eyes bewildered. "Is there a point to this?" She opened up the sheet and let it fall on the table. "It's not something I'm proud of. But I didn't think it was relevant anymore."

"Yeah," Yang said lowly. "That seems to be coming up a lot lately."

Blake stopped attempting to decipher the map and stared a knife into Yang.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I don't know," Yang said with a sulky, sideways glance. "I guess I'm just finding it hard to trust the people I thought I knew."

Blake sucked the chilly air through her teeth. "Yang, you can't expect people to be an open book. Why does it make you angry that sometimes you have to turn a page to find out about them?" Blake balled her hands up, knuckles white and planted against the table. She stared at Yang until she couldn't bear the silence, and she hung her head.

"We still work well as a team. It was rough, but we pulled off Bumblebee without too much trouble." Blake's smile was faint, and it quickly faded. "But… are we even friends anymore?"

Yang's expression filled with doubt. "I dunno," she said sullenly. "You tell me." She walked past Blake, back to the desk in the corner of the office. She chose to face the wall. After a shellacked moment, Blake cast her eyes downward.

"It took me a long time to get back on my feet," she said, staring at the wall. "All that time, I just..." She looked at her hand and saw that it was trembling; she stilled it by grabbing the corner of the desk.

The broken look didn't escape Blake's notice; it cut her deeply, injuring her in a way that the blade that left the scar on her abdomen couldn't. The depth of Yang's wounds became clearer with each episode of impatience. Fighting the fear of her partner's wrath, she approached with steadied steps. She arrived at Yang's side and her hand, alighting upon the blonde's arm, drew a start from the taller huntress. Her alert, rigid stance relaxed when she beheld Blake, and for a moment Blake caught a glimpse of the old Yang smile. Then, she clouded over again.

"This isn't the time for this," Yang muttered, pulling away from Blake. Stunned, the latter looked away, stifling dejection. Her gaze drifted back to the desk and noticed something at the back of the ransacked file drawer.

"Look," Blake said, pointing. She stooped and reached into the desk, and when she pulled back she turned over a thin book in her hand. She was quick to open it. Her eyes scanned the pages, quickly devouring the information within. "It's an operations journal…"

Yang stepped back and waited impatiently for Blake to mention something significant.

Her scanning slowed as she approached the last few pages. Blake thumbed slowly through the pages. After pages of logs, numbers, figures, and general complaints about the inefficiency of an unmotivated, frequently involuntary workforce, she softly took a deeper breath than usual.

"The last entry," she said with a growing malaise. "Here it says, ' _Those highborn bastards shut the elevator up after themselves. The lower tunnels are completely overrun by the monsters. The slaves tried to break free and attacked some of our guards with their tools, so the boss told us to blow the rest of the elevator. It's been days now for sure, but sometimes I still hear a scream from the chasm. I don't think they're coming back with those troops from Mantle, so I'm leaving this here for whoever's foolish enough to come back to this damned place: No lode of Dust is worth dying for.'_ "

Neither one of them spoke for a moment, each processing her thoughts. When they did, it was Yang who broke the silence.

"Grimm."

"This place must be a hive," Blake said distantly. "It's a tomb _and_ a hive." She dropped the journal and walked back over to the table and the map spread across it. She ran a fingertip across its aged surface, approximating their location.

"We could keep climbing, but it sounds like they sealed the shaft up as well. There's another tunnel from here, to a side exit here, but…"

Yang tilted her head. "But?"

Blake twisted her lips and highlighted the marking on the map with her fingertip. "It runs through a chamber labeled _Delirium Grotto_. I… I don't like the sound of that, Yang."

Yang groaned. "Well, it's the most direct way out of here, right? Unless there's something else."

"If there is it's not on the map." Blake slouched a little, starting to feel something resembling fatigue.

"If we go up the elevator shaft and find it blocked, it'll be a lot harder to backtrack, and I'm not interested in accidentally finding what's at the bottom of this place. On the other hand, this could just be a place with a scary name."

"You're right," said Blake, with a sigh. "Superstitions weren't uncommon then, or even now. We have the Grimm to thank for a lot of that." Blake folded the map and slipped it into her coat pocket.

* * *

Blake and Yang stepped out of the dilapidated office and wended their way back to the stone floor. Yang half expected the structure to come down the moment they were clear of it, but stoically it stood, as it had for years and likely would for unsung years to come. She wondered if some other unlucky soul would one day stumble across the same ruin and see the signs of their passage. She and Blake looked at each other, the latter nodded, and they started towards their best hope of an exit.

The tunnel that led to the so-called Delirium Grotto was as unremarkable as the rest, braced with wooden beams, now rotting, and lined with the evidence of a formerly active worksite suddenly abandoned. They walked onwards for several minutes without any changes, and there was no detectable shift in elevation as they went on.

Suddenly, the supports stopped. And before them was a collapse.

The way was blocked.

"Great," Yang spat, annoyance mounting.

"We can go back to the elevator column," Blake suggested, putting forth an effort to calm Yang. "I can use my semblance to jump to the top and see."

The shroud of Yang's right-hand gun snapped back, the barrel deployed.

Blake flinched back and gave Yang some clearance. She threw her fist out with a battle cry and a shotgun blast sent debris flying into the air. Blake shielded her face and held her breath against the dust cloud.

The collapse was loosened enough that Yang was able to push through into the so-called Delirium Grotto.

The chamber was as large as the parlor in the house back in Mistral, perhaps a little larger. The ceiling and walls were close enough that Yang's scroll could illuminate them, if a bit faintly in the case of the more distant surfaces. Crystals glittered in the torchlight.

Yang stood there and gazed around the empty chamber, half expecting a howling Grimm to jump out at her from the space just beyond her field of vision. In that minute that she waited, Blake joined her just in time for nothing to happen.

"I guess it was just a scary name," said Blake, quietly inflecting reluctance to air that thought.

Yang began taking steps towards the anticipated exit. Several paces took her to the center of the room, where the only point of interest in this place was. There stood a formation that looked akin to a large fountain shaped almost like a water lily. However, no water ran here, and the fountain was made from crystals similar to those that were embedded in the grotto's walls. Not Dust but something else; it almost seemed like ice.

"Okay," Blake started from behind, "that is weird. Be careful, Yang."

Yang felt a tug of apprehension, but she approached the crystal lily. She leaned in to examine it, and as she did she saw the refracting light return several images of herself. For the first time that night, Yang was amused.

"Hey Blake, check this o—"

She was alone.

"Blake?" _Oh no_. Yang began to look around wildly.

Blake's face was mere inches from hers when she turned back towards the crystal. A spark of anger flared as she drew a gasp, and with a quaking hand she reached out and grabbed Blake's shoulder.

"What are you doing?" she said behind gritted teeth.

Blake looked at Yang's hand with an aloof demeanor, and she fixed those electrum eyes on her own with the same look. The lazy aggression left Yang's expression slack with confusion.

"You're so pathetic."

* * *

Blake scratched at her eyes. The dust from Yang's breach bothered her still and made her sight bleary. When she cleared her eyes she found she had lost track of Yang. Blake stiffened with anxiety as she felt the loneliness creep in.

"Yang?" Her hand climbed slowly to Gambol Shroud's hilt.

"Over here, loser."

Blake turned and spotted Yang, but something was off; her eyes were deadpan and voice just as monotonous.

"Surprised you didn't run _again_."

Immediately Blake sensed something was wrong. She knew that Yang could be pointed when she was angry, but this was something else. It felt _cruel_.

"What are you saying?" Blake demanded. "And what are you waiting for? We can walk out of here!"

"Can we?" asked Yang, glancing towards the end of the cave beyond the formation in the center. It now appeared as a dead end, another glittering wall to this grotto.

"Wha—?"

"Figures you'd mislead us," Yang sneered. "That is what you're best at doing, isn't it?"


	4. Delirium

**IV**

 **Delirium**

* * *

Yang stared, completely nonplussed with Blake's sudden shift in attitude. Her hasty analysis noted how her partner's voice had gone flat and the dimness in her eyes, which lacked the empathetic shine she was used to.

"What?" Yang said, managing to keep her voice from rising angrily.

"Pathetic," Blake repeated, using a tone so identical it might have been a recording. "You always were more emotion than thought," she added evenly. "I mean, look at us. If it wasn't for you, we wouldn't be stuck in this cave to begin with."

"You didn't have to follow me," Yang responded from behind clenched teeth.

"But you wanted me to," Blake quickly retorted, almost cutting her off.

Yang cast her eyes around as she found that she was unable to disagree. Hardly believing the confrontation they were having, Yang looked back in the direction that she came from. There was the breach through which they had entered, a route she created through force. Nothing else seemed new about the chamber.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Blake," Yang said with an effort at not sounding upset, "but we can deal with it when we get out of here." Trying not to let her rage boil over, Yang brushed past Blake and pushed towards the other end of the cavern. The light of her scroll, however, revealed no egress; instead another wall glittered back from the darkness. She stood there, dumbfounded, and gradually she became aware of the approaching clicks of Blake's heels.

"It's a dead end," Blake said.

Yang deployed Ember Celica and drove it into the wall, breaking the silence with a loud ringing impact of stone on metal. Had she the shells, there would have been a report of shotgun blasts as well. Cracked crystals tinkled across the rocky ground. Blake, arms akimbo, waited until the last clatter of tumbling stone echoed into the deep to speak.

"You're just like Adam, you know," Blake whispered, her words practically steaming with venom. "Always letting your anger control you, using violence to get your way."

Yang whirled in place and locked glares with Blake, Ember Celica compacting into its shroud. Blake's stare did not waver, and she began to felt like those eyes had pierced her and pinned her like an insect to an exhibit board. Yang's lips gradually split into a grimace, teeth tightly grit.

"What are you thinking, Yang Xiao Long?" Blake asked, head tilted condescendingly. Her smoldering golden eyes finally averted from Yang's own, only to behold the tremor building in her remaining hand. Yang brought it up to her chest and stilled it, and she suddenly felt exposed.

"Do you want to hit me, Yang?" Blake said slowly, every syllable carefully enunciated. It didn't even seem like a real question.

Yang raised her eyes. There was a rumble in her ears, a subsonic tremblor, like the earth was shifting in the darkness further below. It wasn't another collapse opening up, but the sound of her heartbeats overlapping, the rushing blood in her veins which could very well have been magma judging purely from how very furious she felt in that moment. Her hands clenched into fists, and though her prosthetic had its rated limits, her left hand did not; weren't it for her gloves, she would have dug her nails into her palm until they drew blood.

* * *

 _Misguided?_ What in the world was Yang going on about? Blake's confusion was written on her face in its incomprehensible totality as she tried to read Yang's sudden mood swing.

"It's what the map says," Blake calmly retorted. The folded parchment seemed to radiate a presence in her coat pocket, the effect perhaps a byproduct of her increasing hyperawareness. Her feline ears strained anxiously as she thought she heard a dull bang from no clear direction, like a metal door hitting the stone ground.

"A map that's like a hundred years old," Yang said as she shrugged off the wall she leaned against. "Didn't occur to you that it could be wrong though, did it? Heh, just like you. Always trying to assume you know what's best for everyone else."

Blake's confusion melted into a slight wince, brows furrowed. "I'm just trying to help!"

"Help!" Yang barked, an ugly sound that segued into a dark chuckle. Her expression went deadpan in the next moment, and her lilac-shaded eyes looked off through Blake like she was nothing. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Just like you helped when the White Fang came calling, huh." Yang folded her metal arm out of its entanglement and gazed at the open palm sorrowfully.

Blake opened her mouth to argue, but found her words alarmingly inadequate and, moreover, impossible to voice. A horrible twist in her chest reminded her of the scene that fateful night, Yang's anguished, desperate screaming as she cleared an impossible distance in the space of a second and was more swiftly cut down.

The memory of her limp body landing beside her made her heart beat out of time.

"There you go!" Yang said merrily, clapping twice while her face lit up with mockery. "I wondered how long it was gonna take you to remember what you put me through."

"Just because I don't recall it willingly doesn't mean I've forgotten," Blake retorted, barely steadying the quiver in her voice.

"Of course not," Yang droned, her mirth fading back into a depressed monotone. "That doesn't mean you haven't buried it. You _don't_ want to deal with it. Seems like a common theme for you, Blakey." Yang loosed her arms to her side and started taking measured steps towards Blake.

In that instance she felt something rare, something familiar and unpleasant. A flutter of panic danced against the walls of her stomach. She knew that Yang could be unpredictable in the flare of her anger, but was she really capable of what Blake began to fear?

Was she going to hurt her?

If she tried, could she fight back?

Did she even want to fight back?

The grinding of Yang's heavy boots stopped a foot and some inches away. The blonde leaned in towards Blake until they were less than a foot apart, face to face. Blake averted her eyes, feeling like the very gaze of those molten eyes could strike her dead.

"While I lied broken in a bed for months, you went off gallivanting on some personal quest." The quiet hum of the prosthetic's inner workings was the only thing interrupting the echo of Yang's words and the heave of Blake's shallow breaths. "Would it have hurt you to say 'see ya later'? If we hadn't been in Mistral when your quest brought you through, would you have even come back?"

"Yes!" Blake shouted, the desperation pushing her to finally exert all her energy into a response.

Yang pulled back, finally out of Blake's personal bubble. She allowed herself a deeper breath, and although she felt relief, the thought that she was so frightened by Yang being that close caused her to sob suddenly. The memory of a time where she was more than welcome to be so near burned like a stray ember on the skin, a warm thought that was now more like a bee's sting. And why, now, the difference?

Because she had pushed herself away, she concluded. That pleasant memory was a bitter reminder of what she had lost. What they had lost.

Because of her.

"I'm sorry," Blake whispered. She could not stop the tears from flowing, looking at Yang and her unimpressed demeanor as two large drops rolled down her face. "I didn't want to leave you. I didn't! But what if they followed me to you? What if you or Ruby got hurt?"

"We did just fine up to when you conveniently showed up," Yang said, her voice hissing through her teeth like a volcanic vent. "You clearly didn't think we needed you. Maybe this time… you were right."

Blake turned and walked away from Yang, past the crystalline flower in the center of the chamber, towards the end where the exit from the cave allegedly was. She was confronted by the wall as seen from afar, but Blake was not convinced that a wall could simply appear where none had been. Even if they had sealed up this entrance years ago, the collapse would still be evident.

She attempted to clear her vision as she walked when she hit something unexpectedly, her whole body halting as though she had just run into a wall.

A ghostly image of Yang, just as bewildered as she felt, crossed her sight.

* * *

"Would you like me to hit you, Blake?" Yang asked unironically, her voice raising in volume. "Because maybe you're right, maybe I _should_ knock some sense into you."

"Nothing would make you happier right now, would it?" cooed Blake, folding her arms and walking slowly around her partner. "You don't hesitate to let people know about themselves, Yang. But as soon as someone does the same to you, you're ready to throw fists."

"That's not true!" she yelled, doing her best to keep her hands at her sides.

"Then why are you holding back so hard that your whole body is trembling?" asked Blake as she paced like a predator looking for a blind spot.

"I'm so mad I can barely think," she admitted. "But I… I don't hate you." She looked up, her eyes ablaze yet listless. "I couldn't _ever_ hurt you," she said, her voice quiet but still lacking calm. "So why did you hurt me?"

Blake smiled, the kind of smirk she had seen only once before on Torchwick's leading henchwoman. It was uncharacteristically cold of her, Yang thought.

"Everyone leaves you eventually, Yang. Your mother, Ruby's mother, even Ruby, too."

Yang looked off to her side, away from where Blake was prowling. If she had any murderous intent, here is where she could have pounced. But she seemed insistent on needling Yang instead.

"Why do you think that is?"

Yang couldn't form the words for an answer. A sense of defeat began to creep into her limbs and it made her feel weak, as though she were caught in the throes of a flu. Now that she relaxed, she felt just how tense she had been; her whole body ached.

"I can't speak for them," Blake continued, "but I can tell you why I left." Blake leaned in, inches from Yang's ear, and whispered:

" _It was because I couldn't depend on you."_

The sound of a sword drawn maliciously sent an icy blade up Yang's back. She gasped for air, suddenly feeling as though the walls were too close. She took a few hasty bounds towards the breach she created, determined to find a way out whether it was with or without Blake.

She hit an obstacle as if she were walking into a pedestrian on the sidewalk, but invisible, mid-stride.

Yang stumbled back in surprise, the air rippling before her.

Blake's face peered from the dark, wearing a stunned expression, before it faded away in a blink.

Yang stood still for a long moment, doubting for the first time the evidence of her eyes and ears. She looked back over her shoulder and saw Blake there still, approaching her now. Yang's lips peeled back, her teeth bared like an Ursine threat.

"Don't you worry, Yang," said Blake. "I'm not leaving you again." Her sword slithered out of its scabbard. "I'll be with you till you die!"

Yang led with a scream, her fist close behind.

* * *

Blake turned away from where the apparition of Yang had played across her sight. There behind her she supposedly stood, with her arms crossed and expectation on her inexpressive face. She didn't so much as narrow her eyes when Blake fixated upon her.

"You're not real," Blake whispered, a realization dawning on her with a mixture of relief and anger.

"Well, you treated me like I wasn't, anyway." Yang took a lazy step forward, Ember Celica and the gun on her arm deploying with casual menace.

Blake had no reason to assume that the threat wasn't real; she took Gambol Shroud and flipped it into an underhanded grip, eyes never leaving what she now knew to be a conjuration of Yang. She waited for it to make the first move.

Yang took another step and pushed off, leading with a punch. Blake stayed grounded for the moment, sidestepping the linear attack with ease, bringing her blade down as she dodged. It was easily deflected by Yang, a metallic noise and sputter of sparks ringing out. This time, the impersonator didn't wait for Blake to regain her balance and pressed the attack.

Blake moved around the attacks with ease, predictable as they were, and she only grew nervous when shots began to be incorporated into the attacks. The heat of the blasts singed her hair and reassured her that this danger was very real.

An unexpected sweep hooked her leg and sent Blake tumbling backwards. As she fell, the impostor Yang, mimicking the genuine article, wound up her right arm over her shoulder and brought it hammering down towards Blake. The faunus shifted, and Yang's iron fist drove her shadow clone into the ground with a loud thump. As the broken body disappeared, Blake flew in from a blind angle, yelling as though the exertion would help her drive through any defense the impersonation put up—and it did.

Gambol Shroud bit through Yang's prosthetic, cutting cleanly through it. It continued its path into Yang herself, and to Blake's surprise the edge bit deep.

 _No aura_ , Blake thought to herself. She looked at the fabrication of her partner sorrowfully as she seemed to struggle for air, wondering how she didn't see through the illusion sooner.

Black mist poured from the lethal wound, and Yang, the charade exposed, fell to the ground and scattered.

* * *

Yang withstood the edge of the impostor Blake's sword, her aura flashing as she landed her straight punch square on her target's face. A lesser fighter might've had her head turned around by the force, but Blake spun with it and threw her blade out.

Yang weaved to a side, the large sword cleaving by. Yang was not ignorant of the ribbon and caught it, using it to yank Blake close enough to deliver a turning back kick into her abdomen. The blow landed square, seemingly knocking the wind out of Blake. Yang followed it relentlessly, landing a combination of jabs and hooks that sent her foe reeling, each hit raising a pang of guilt that she quickly buried with subdued fury. Yang went for the big finish, reeling her arm back for a massive overhead punch.

And at the last split-second she aborted, baiting out the dodge. Yang fired her cannon and spun herself around, turning her fist so that it landed backhand into the side of Blake's head. There was a crunch on impact, and the body hit the ground as a pile of black ash that scattered into the cavern air.

Thoroughly distressed by the mere appearance that she had killed her partner, Yang took a few ragged breaths and steadied herself. Her ferocity began to ebb, her eyes cooling back to their native lilac tone, and she caught Blake's stunned stare from across the grotto.

"Yang!" Blake screamed, "That thing is a Grimm!" she said, her finger jabbed out towards the centerpiece of the grotto, the crystalline lily.

Yang acted on the intel swiftly and leapt at the formation, her hand cocked back for a destructive impact. But as she came within striking distance, a wave of black energies hit her and sent her to the ground.

A bat-winged figure sprang out of the formation, a single red eye as its central feature, framed by toothed eyelids. It emitted a chitter that was beyond Yang's range of hearing, but Blake covered her ears as though someone had driven hot needles into them.

Yang retaliated, firing a shot from her arm cannon in a flare-like permutation. It whistled through the air and burst near the unknown Grimm, sending it off-balance. Blake had presently recovered enough of her faculties to aim and fire her gun at the bat.

It seemed to dodge every shot, fluttering erratically in a way that would present a daunting target for even Ruby and Crescent Rose on their best day's shooting.

Yang launched herself into the air beside the creature and swung her heel out at it. This it dropped under as Yang's kick sailed free, though it was seemingly unable to retaliate. Blake meanwhile tried to catch it with Gambol Shroud, thrown in an arc after a swift windup.

The batlike Grimm saw this attack coming and dropped further, and it was here that Yang saw the opening; she threw out her fist and struck Gambol Shroud with the momentum from her kick, spiking the sickle-form blade like a volleyball. There was a loud metallic ring as the weapon cut through the murk, and an eerie screech that could be felt in the spine that suddenly cut out.

In a blink, Blake's blade protruded grotesquely from the creature's body, out from its eye, and following a stunned instant it dropped to the cave floor like a lifeless stone. Its remains hissed away until nothing of was left, and the crystalline flower crumbled, wilting into black sand that evaporated silently.

Yang picked up Gambol Shroud and looked to for Blake, only to find her partner already throwing her arms around her in a desperate embrace.


	5. Renewal

**V**

 **Renewal**

* * *

Yang went stiff as a board, frozen in place like a pyrite stalagmite, save for the light shaking of her body as it came down from the adrenaline high. Her partner seemed to be in a similar state, her slender fingers twitching as they rested high on her back.

Either alarms were ringing in her head or the blood surging through her veins was causing her ears to hear things. Blake had up until now been respecting her space, and the sudden closeness felt stifling in consideration of all the thoughts unresolved they had between them. Maybe it was her residual anger from the encounter with the Grimm and its too-real puppet in the shape of her partner that was causing her to feel resentment. In spite of that, it's not like she _wanted_ to push her away.

She wanted Blake there. She wanted her close. It was all she ever wanted when the nightmares came crawling on a quiet night, when the terrors hit her waking mind on an otherwise beautiful spring day.

And yet it felt wrong. Additionally, it felt like she was stealing comfort. Selfishly, it gave Yang a sense of relief because it revealed that Blake was not acting out of guilt alone, but need.

Something had clearly shaken her, and the recollection of the mirror image of the faunus flit through her mind like a rapid-fire slideshow. Yang felt her stomach turn as she remembered that she entertained for a moment too long that the apparition was _actually_ Blake. How was it that she had fallen for an illusion _yet again?_ It was a hallucination, and yet the damage her aura absorbed was very real.

"Blake?" Yang finally said just to break the silence and hopefully get somewhere. There was no immediate threat as far as she could detect, but she was set on edge after all that had happened just tonight.

Blake had no words; her only response was to curl her fingers deep into the back of Yang's jacket.

Yang opened her mouth to protest. When the words died on her tongue, she instead allowed herself to relax a little and began moving her hands to reciprocate the gesture. It was only when her fingers skimmed barely above the fabric of Blake's tailcoat that her partner suddenly regained her self-awareness. Blake jolted her ears upwards and released Yang, gasping; she pushed off from Yang, leaving the latter mired in perplexion and the former embarrassed, wide-eyed and choking on half-formed words.

"I… I'm sorry, Yang!" she stammered while wringing her hands. "I should have controlled myself," she said with a shake of her head. "I let my composure slip. I-I had no right—" And on she went, castigating herself.

Yang frowned, seeing that Blake was still at war with herself. She had certainly been more assertive since they reunited, more willing to put in the first word on a matter, but she was still an ambivalent mess. Even after reportedly taking the lead in foiling the White Fang's attack on Haven Academy, which Yang had to admit had saved them since they would have been buried under the debris had the terrorists been allowed to detonate their bombs, Blake Belladonna still could not address her without first swimming through an ocean of self-doubt.

Unable to bear the sight of Blake flailing about nervously, Yang closed the space between them in a single stride and cupped the back of Blake's head in her hand. The effect was immediate, stunned silence from the faunus; Yang wasn't able to get an exact read on her emotions as she pulled her face into her shoulder, simply acting on the first instinct of what she felt was right. She felt Blake go rigid again as if she were ready to jump back; instead she shuddered like she suddenly caught a chill, but once she felt it was safe Blake again clutched at the back of Yang's jacket, albeit a little more gently. Yang sighed, releasing her apprehension with that held breath.

* * *

"Why?" Yang asked her quietly, but sharply.

Blake twitched her ears, her awareness betrayed when all she wanted to do was hide away, partly in shame and partly in fear. Whatever happened to cause those illusions, she wondered if those were the truest, innermost feelings that her partner held towards her.

"Why what?" Blake replied nervously, doing her best at keeping her words steady.

"Why do you keep acting like you've given up on yourself?"

Blake's ears flicked on their own accord and slowly pinned back until they were flat against her head. Blake listened to the breath Yang took as she relaxed her grip on the blonde's jacket. She drew back, but the brawler wouldn't let her retreat all the way. The way Yang held onto her arms, lightly but with resolve, told her that she expected an answer; she also wouldn't hold her against her will if she chose to pull away. Blake felt alarm as she knew this was a test of some kind; for the moment Blake lingered, her eyes briefly searching Yang's face before avoiding the taller one's eyes and instead sighting her prosthetic. Her stare was intense, and Blake knew that look. In the past, Yang had respected her privacy, but _that look_ promised unpleasantness if she didn't get some kind of explanation.

"Wherever I go," Blake spoke softly, "it's just danger that follows me. Ever since I left the White Fang I never wanted to get close to anyone because I was afraid that as soon as I did, they would end up hurt—because of me." Blake sniffed, and it was then that Yang seemed to notice the halfway dried streaks on her face. "But you already knew that. You've known that for a long time. I'm not worth that misery. I'm better off alone—"

"Stop it," growled Yang, already scowling. "Are you even hearing yourself right now?"

Blake froze, gaze arrested by the pair of lilac eyes threatening to catch fire. "If we'd never met, you'd still have your—"

" _Stop._ " Perhaps the most startling thing about Yang's words were the utter calm with which she said them, a soft sound as sobering and implacable as the rumbling of a far off storm. Blake held her breath for a beat and let herself exhale.

"I already told you," said Yang, releasing an exasperated sigh, "that I would have given up _my life_. You were—are worth that _to me_." As were all her friends, Blake knew, but she had to wonder at the emphasis.

"Losing my arm was tough, sure," Yang continued, "but when you left without saying anything, I lost more than my partner, more than my friend—I lost my _heart_. Getting up out of bed every day after that was a struggle." Yang hooded her eyes. "What you did wrong was not getting close to us, it wasn't bringing your baggage to our doorstep; it was you ditching us when we needed you the most."

Blake knew she meant _me_ when she said _us_.

Her ears went flush against her head again and the urge to avert her gaze was strong, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from the lilac-colored pair bearing down on her with solar intensity. She could see the pain in those eyes and they were like a dagger to her chest, because she knew that she was responsible for that. Her face, dewy with sweat and humidity native to the cavern, remained unreadably calm. Blake knew that she was upset, but she wasn't sure if there was anything she could do to help.

"I know what I did was wrong," Blake said lowly, haltingly, unable to hold Yang's stare anymore. "I should have known better than to have vanished the way I did." She sucked in her bottom lip, biting until she felt like she was on the verge of breaking skin. Yang remained silent and she began to feel her guts knot up as her imaginings of the blonde's thoughts began rocketing around inside her head. "I did it anyway. And I feel like if you never forgive me, it would be everything I deserve."

Her words hurt like a year old wound, one that had only partially healed before it was again split open. She didn't want to lose Yang's friendship, if she even still had the privilege of that title. Blake kept her eyes clear despite the urge to break down. Guilt wrenched at her stomach and the self-loathing part of herself whispered even louder dissurances as her heart thumped against her eardrums.

Yang remained silent, waiting, but Blake had nothing else to add. Her dread only grew with the silence, and she simply cast her eyes downward and awaited the baptism of fire she felt awaited her.

Blake's eyes widened then, but not for being consumed in a bloom of fiery condemnations. Instead there was warmth, a calming radiance like the sun on a winter's day. The smell of roadworn leather and gunsmoke permeated her senses as she was again encircled in Yang's strong embrace, the blonde having chosen to express herself as she always has when words failed her.

* * *

The way they had planned on leaving the mine was sealed. No matter how many times Yang punched it, even with her mechanized arm, there was no getting through the collapse. It appeared to be intentional, and if it was done from the outside then it was unlikely that anything short of high-powered Dust demolitions would be able to get through the collapse.

Yang slammed her metal fist against the loose rocks and was gainless; at this point it was simply an outward show of frustration, and she slumped to her knees with a curse. Blake strained her hearing for any signs of oncoming danger from behind, though it seemed like they would have to go back the way they came. She had the map out in her hands, and she looked for less obvious ways out that she may have missed earlier.

"Maybe we could find a breach made by that King Taijitu," Blake said as she examined the map. "Or others like it," she added.

"It could be miles of walking underground," Yang replied miserably, her words directed into the dirt. "If we can even find one."

"I could hear the wind from the elevator shaft," Blake said, looking up from the map. "The seal might have failed with time. It'll be dangerous, but we might be able to get out that way after all."

Yang looked back at Blake with a dangerous gleam in her eyes, one similar to the one she had when she boasted about having the key out ahead of their climb.

"Let's head back then." Yang dusted her pants and rose to return to Blake. There was a clatter and she stumbled and lost her footing. The blonde hit the ground with a thud and a groan, and Blake had to hold down a chuckle. She remembered Yang being less clumsy than this...

"Don't twist your ankle again," Blake said as she hastened to Yang's side. The bruiser waved Blake off as she turned and sat up.

"I'm fine. Ow. I just rolled my foot on something."

Blake suddenly gasped and drew back, her voice hushed. "Oh gods."

Alerted, Yang looked back to where Blake had directed her attention. As the light from her scroll shone on the ground in front of the sealed exit, it revealed the hollow gaze of a human skull half buried in the dirt in front of the collapse.

Yang drew a breath softly. "Yeah," she whispered, her widened eyes fixed on the empty stare. "Let's not end up like you."

* * *

Yang could not take her eyes off of Blake as they marched back to the atrium, as it was labeled on the map. She let the faunus take point by virtue of her night vision and superior sense of hearing and herself stayed a few steps behind, left to contemplate her thoughts as they walked in silence.

 _You weren't dependable._ The words from the apparition of Blake stung like a persistent tinnitus; she favored the terminus of her arm and its replacement. It had begun to ache in the same way it had when it woke her, a pain that she couldn't soothe.

The words continued to ring in her head, and by this point her annoyance was shifting into anger. Did it mean they had a din of truth to them? Yang had weathered insults and innuendoes her whole life with no more than a toss of her hair and a laugh. Growing up fast meant that she had to have a thick skin. What set her off were the things that poked at real faults, the thoughts and words that prodded at the real insecurities that she hid beneath a layer of good humor.

Yang looked at her prosthetic and felt guilt weigh on her shoulders; it was as though the implement that allowed her to carry on with nary a missed beat also served as a permanent reminder of her shortcomings, an anchor to her past mistakes.

She failed at being the defender, the protector. It was her unspoken role in the team, and she had been found wanting. Blake was an unwitting reminder of it, too. Somehow they had managed to escape Adam's wrath that night, and Yang knew that her recklessness put her partner out as well. She wondered if that had anything to do with her leaving—after all, when your partner, who relies on her fists to do her job, loses her arm and her ability to fight, why stick with them?

Yang felt her head wobble. She couldn't decide if the tired feeling was from walking and fighting the whole night on lost sleep, or if it was simply the current groundward turn of her mood. She squeezed her eyes shut and gave her head a brusque shake; she couldn't afford to let her bad thoughts go like a runaway train while they were still so far from safety.

She looked back up at Blake. Her white coat cut a dramatic figure in the low light. The blonde watched as her catlike ears stood rigid and alert, pivoting at the slightest disruption of the silence. Sometimes they did so without prompt, and Yang could only imagine that it was because they picked up on something that she could not. A feeling of uselessness bubbled up, a sum of the perceived indolence and the disquieted thoughts in her head.

"Yang," Blake's voice piped up, gratefully breaking the silence, "what happened back there, in the grotto?" She saw those electrum irises gleam back at her.

"I dunno," Yang answered, staring right back at Blake. "When I walked up to that crystal formation, I looked back and found myself alone. Then I turned around and suddenly there you were. But it wasn't you. Not really."

Blake hooded her eyes for a moment, looking thoughtful.

"I saw you, too," she said, prompting a head tilt from Yang. "But you said things that I couldn't imagine you actually saying," Blake said, her voice momentarily frail. "The words were cruel. I know you can get angry, but you wouldn't threaten… me, would you?"

Yang seemed shocked at the idea. "No, Blake," she basically coughed out, starting to see parallels with the experience she had. "I couldn't ever hurt you," she said, repeating the words she had to the specter of her partner.

They passed a moment in silence wherein she thought she heard Blake sigh, and, with a sarcastic chuckle, she recounted her own experience. "Your clone wasn't very kind to me, either," Yang said with a grim smile. "But I couldn't help but wonder if some of the things 'she' said were… partly true."

Blake looked back over her shoulder. "What do you mean?"

Yang suddenly felt taciturn. She cast her eyes about, fully aware that while she could only see glints of Blake's eyes in the jostling light of her scroll, she and her cues were on display for the night-sighted faunus.

"It's… it's not important," she said halfheartedly. "It was just an illusion."

Yang crossed her arms and avoided Blake's doubtful glance, but she felt her aura burn where the illusory blade had struck her.

* * *

The two huntresses found the atrium as it was when they first came to it earlier, and from appearances it remained undisturbed except by their earlier passage. They came to a stop at the edge of the room, and while Blake canvassed it by sight, Yang checked her scroll's face and found that the hours were coming upon dawn. They really had spent the entirety of the night down here, she thought dejectedly, and now the concern was what the rest of their team would think when they got up and discovered that they were down one Yang and one Blake. The last thing Yang wanted was for Ruby and Qrow to work themselves up into a panic and launch a search party for them. The blonde knew her family, and it was especially possible given recent events. The battle at Haven was still fresh on everybody's minds, present company included.

Yang turned her attention back to her partner. When Blake was satisfied that there had been no passage of anything besides themselves, she stepped out towards the partly jammed door and leaned through the small opening in the wire-crossed door; there she strained her ears as she often had before.

"I can hear the wind above," she confirmed for Yang. Pumping her fists into her palms, one and then the other, Yang prepared for action as she joined Blake at the ledge. The darkness of the shaft yawned out below them, and Yang felt a wariness where she hadn't when they begun their earlier ascent.

"The others will be awake soon," Yang gave as an aside as she gripped one of the gates and forced it open. "How do you want to approach this?" she added, deciding it was wise to find out what the eyes of the team thought before they took a leap.

"It looks like we can just climb the tracks the rest of the way," Blake said. "I don't know what we'll find when we reach the top, but from here I can't make out any hindrances or breaks… or…" Blake's voice gradually quieted until it trailed off.

Yang felt the urge to hold her breath, lest she disrupt the concentration Blake had fallen into. She waited for words that didn't come. Her eyes scanned her partner as her stance grew tense and her ears pointed forward, golden eyes also fixed at some indiscernible point in the darkness. As Blake's eyes panned down towards the furthest point of the abyss, her hand gravitated towards the hilt of her weapon. Before Yang could voice her concern at the growing dread, Blake did it for her.

"Grimm in the levels below. They're riled up." Blake looked back at her. "Dozens—" she said, she paused, and took a breath, "—hundreds. We need to go."


	6. Trust

**VI**

 **Trust**

* * *

Yang fed a magazine of shot shells into Ember Celica. As the gauntlet armed with a percussive _click_ , she looked back towards the other tunnels that fed into the atrium and wondered if they shouldn't be covering those as well. Breathing, she figured it was the best solution they had available to them. Prepared as she could be for the coming trial, she gave Blake a steely look.

She reciprocated with a nod and cast her eyes back over the ledge.

"They're climbing," Blake said quietly, like she was afraid something would hear her. "I don't know if we'll be able to outrace them." They both knew that the most likely creature of Grimm that they'd see down here were Creeps—quick, subterranean fiends with an ease of mobility that made escape in confined locations impossible. Individually they were weak, but in large groups they were a threat. It hadn't been that long since Mountain Glenn, yet Yang hadn't forgotten the Creeps and other Grimm that chased them into Vale like a tidal wave.

After a thoughtful moment, Yang raised her gaze with a fiendish glimmer in her eye.

"You go then," she said to Blake. "I'll hang back and stall them."

Blake's eyes immediately grew wide. "That's crazy!" she yelled, forgetting her earlier caution. "You'll be overwhelmed!"

The blonde acted like she wasn't unsure of the idea, coolly testing her arm cannon's actuator. "If I position myself right, I don't have to fight all of them at once. Just one or two, if I guard that gate. You're way faster than I am, and the quicker you can get that platform loose the better off we'll both be."

Blake's ears hung listlessly, apprehension weighing on her other features. Yang took a breath, stepped up to the faunus and cupped her shoulder. She drew that electrum gaze and she smiled back with her lavender own.

"Trust me," she said. Metal fingers tapped on her scroll, its light shining. "Give me a signal if, _when_ the way is clear and I'll be up there as fast as possible."

A loud, unnatural noise like the coupling of a crocodile and a nevermore's scolding interrupted from the abyss. After a moment of intense consideration, Blake looked to her partner and bobbed her head.

"Give me a boost."

* * *

With a full-chested shout, Yang flexed and threw her joined hands up over her head. Blake's foot planted into her fingers at the right instant and her slim form hurled through the air like an arrow, cutting into the shadow until quickly she disappeared into the black air.

A small sense of dread settled into Yang's stomach as she heard the flutter of Blake's coat disappear from earshot. Now it was just her and the oncoming adversary.

 _She'll be fine,_ she told herself. Consoled herself.

Another keening hiss bellowed out from closer below. A new one or the same one? Other growls followed close behind it. Yang took a deep breath, released it, and she armed her gauntlets as she took a defensive stance. Her hair fell like liquid gold around her shoulders as she stared into the darkness, body tense with charged explosives and eyes alight with intensity.

Besides the unknown creature in the Delirium Grotto and the King Taijitu before that, it had been a time since Yang contended with the Grimm. It was a different feeling from fighting other people. For one, she didn't have to worry about holding back—she was free to test the limits of her lethality against the soulless opponents. It was good, wholesome fun that was also a community service; pest control, in a term. And for the second, she didn't have to contend with the idea that people could be as monstrous, if not moreso, than the Grimm.

The worst of the Grimm merely want kill you. The worst of humanity would want you to suffer until you wish they had simply killed you.

One quadruplet of glowing red eyes burned in the black.

"I see you," she jeered as though the Grimm could understand her.

Two, then four, and eight and more sets glowered back up at her. Feral growls answered her sing-song taunting.

"Tough room, huh? That's okay," she said as she pounded her knuckles together. "I'm not here to joke around!"

The first challenger lunged out from the precipice, jaws open and hissing with a fetid black breath as a golden fist flew out to meet it.

* * *

Blake couldn't focus. As she traveled through the air like a missile fired from a slingshot, the wind whistling loudly in her ears and hair, her mind remained on her partner. The thought of Yang alone confronting whatever spilled out of that pit, creatures of Grimm or otherwise, made her stomach turn. Her unease was made even worse when she thought about how Yang lacked the benefits that she herself had in such an environment as this.

No night vision.

She certainly lacked the benefit of four ears.

And yet Yang elected to stay behind.

If not for the pressing time, Blake might have— _would have_ —raised a firmer protest. But her shoulder tingled with the shortly passed memory of her partner's hand and her accompanying words.

 _Trust me_.

The inertia from Yang's initial boost started to falter to gravity. She employed her semblance and leapt from one shadow clone to another, one powerful bound following another. The ceiling, the bottom of the sealed platform, came into view.

When it was within reach, and with Gambol Shroud in hand, Blake whipped the sword from its hybrid sheath and twirled. Ribbon secured to her wrist, she threw out her blade at the fullest extension of her spin, and midflight it underwent metamorphosis before it stabbed into the elevator's wall. When her upward momentum ceased, the tether guided her to a safe landing on the wall.

She retrieved her weapon and guided herself over to the vertical tracks. From there, she climbed as fast as she could. Taking as many of the notches as she could in single bounds, it wasn't long before her muscles and lungs burned with the effort.

Yet she knew she couldn't stop. Yang had placed her trust in her, and she in Blake. It was equal parts challenge and test. Finding them an exit quickly was the objective, but the test was essentially saving them.

If she failed, they would never see their teammates again.

It was not even an option.

As Blake arrived at the effective ceiling of the shaft, she found it to be in as bad condition as she expected a century-old abandoned structure to be. For her purposes, this was good.

Steel bands framed the top part of the shaft, and the tracks terminated in large gears that had been so thoroughly rusted that it was difficult to tell them apart from the natural walls. The sound of the Mistrali wind was fairly loud in Blake's feline ears, but what really called her attention were the occasional thuds that rang out from below.

The sound of Yang's guns.

The rate at which they went off wasn't excessive, but it was frequent enough to indicate a pitched battle. They were steady, one report every few seconds, like she was methodically following a plan. Yang was claiming her pound of flesh this morning, that much was certain. Blake only wished that she could be at her side, if only to watch her back.

She shook her head free of the reverie; she had a job to do. Her focus went back to the gears. Though she could hear the wind, she couldn't see a clear weak point. Any light from the outside didn't reach whatever enclosure or cover the elevator was under, otherwise she might make out the light filtering through.

Blake thought back to Yang's cheerful boasting. What would she do? Blast her way through, clearly. If Team RWBY ever needed someone to make an improvised exit or ingress, Yang was the designated breacher. The fixtures were large and looked like they would require a considerable amount of force to dislodge.

With her off hand she gripped her weapon's sheath, what doubled as a cleaver. With a yell she hacked at the first gear in her path.

Sparks flew and illuminated the dark, the cleaver biting deeply into the ancient metal. It was brittle, but there was so much and much of it fused besides that it would be a job causing the entire assembly to release.

The muffled blasts from below began to come more rapidly.

A sense of urgency took hold of Blake, and with her newfound resolve she struck at the cog again and again. Sparks glanced off her face and grit stung her eyes, but she hewed away relentlessly until a loud groan issued from the metal. Suddenly, the cog popped free of its home in the track and fell away in pieces.

Blake barely swung herself free of the debris. One or two of her hairs weren't so fortunate, and the sudden pull left an unpleasant stinging sensation in her scalp. A small discomfort, normally, but it gave her pause knowing that that could have been her head instead. Her aura would have protected her, but she would have certainly been thrown free of her perch, and if she didn't lose consciousness she still would have lost precious time.

"One down," she sighed in relief, noting the frustration in her voice. Blake then resignedly sprang to the next track and its cog to repeat the process.

* * *

The dark and deep was not Yang's preferred venue for a brawl. But every time her mind felt like voicing a petulant complaint about her situation, the other part of her mind—the rational, oft-ignored voice in her head—quickly shushed the bellyaching, reminding her that this could have all been avoided with some warm milk and a bedtime story.

 _Yeah, right,_ she thought back doubtfully as she smashed another Creep's skull between her iron fist and the stone.

She'd lost count of the beasts she'd sent to slaughter. Some were as easy to defeat as a swift front kick back into the pit from whence they came, others were more tenacious and attacked from unexpected angles. It was almost as if there were differences between individuals and they were not all just copies of one another like some huntsmen were led to believe. Yang couldn't recall whether the Creeps had good eyesight or not, but she always assumed that she could be seen, if not heard. She was not the subtlest of combatants.

As if to prove herself, she leveled yet another two Creeps with a yell, a roundhouse heel sending one flying into the other. She stood just behind the atrium's elevator gate, and she employed it as the doorway to a disassembly line. One Grimm enters, no Grimm leaves, or it does so in pieces. It had made the blonde's task simple, if monotonous, and as she thought about the predictability of it she rapidly cast the thought from her head so as not to tempt fate.

The small hairs on her forearms suddenly went rigid. Yang hopped back instinctively, and a large piece of deformed metal banged deafeningly over the precipice where the latest challenger was crawling up to meet her. It was obliterated instantly, bone splinters and broken black flesh fizzling away into smoke as the reverberations vanished into the abyss.

Yang flicked her lavender gaze upwards, a grin peeling back on her lips as though to cheer her partner on. In the same beat, she found herself hoping she was keeping herself safe.

None of this mattered if they both didn't make it out.

The momentary distraction almost cost her, and she tacked left as a particularly stealthy Creep crawled over a break in the chainlink gate. Yang fired Ember Celica into its flank and used the recoil to deliver a wheeling kick. It was downed, knocked off its feet, and Yang went to finish it off. More Creeps began to arrive on the ledge faster than she could attend to it. By the time she returned her full attention to the gate, several had already forced their way through.

Encircled by the dark mist that once constituted a body, Yang rose from her grim work and panted. Her rhythm was off, and her space was slowly being overtaken. She attempted to position herself as ideally as she had before, but her work became more frenetic now as she defended multiple angles.

Her metal fist punched through serrated teeth, her guns blasted passages out from inside various maws, her bootheels crumpled bony plates like eggshells, and yet she felt like she was making no headway. The massacre was on, hideous countenances and screaming teeth appearing and vanishing in strobes of Dustfire and flares, a glancing hit on her aura here and there. Yang began to rely on her sense of hearing as more of the fiends attempted to encircle her.

She was not flagging yet, but Yang felt her clothes clinging to her body, and she prayed that Blake would send the all-clear soon. She belted out a scream and destroyed the next few Creeps, easily leaping, sliding and pummeling through the bipedal lizardlike Grimm. She hoped that the extra noise would be enough to attract all the Grimm in the shaft. It was an odd thing to hope for, but their success depended on it, so she did her best to make sure that her shotgun ballet drew every single one of the hissing black-and-white bastards onto her dance floor.

* * *

As the sounds of the battle below intensified, so did Blake's work on the ancient platform. It still showed no sign of giving, but she had at this point only removed one of its anchors. The second proved much more stubborn than the first, and her cleaver did little but draw sparks from the rusted hulk. Even with dozens of deep grooves in it it did not falter, and Blake's shoulders began to burn with the exertion of striking metal repeatedly.

It was only when her last stroke bounced back at her rather than through the rust-caked metal that she stopped and despaired.

Rivulets of sweat ran down her back and her black hair matted to her face as she dangled by a single arm from one of the struts beneath the platform. It was robust and strong even in this state of neglect and decay, and it had to be considering the payloads it had once been expected to bear. That same strength was making it difficult to destroy it now that the lives of herself and her partner depended on it.

She felt a twinge of anger and bit back a curse on the humans who built this mine. Even now, this long separated from the White Fang, a lingering distrust of humanity remained in her reckoning. Enormous pockets of suffering, which in turn engendered concentrations of Grimm like the kind Yang was presently battling, were constant reminders of the fallibility of man. And if she didn't see the evidence with her own eyes, the countless books written about it would provide insight enough.

The slave laborers, the trapped miners, the despair and agony from both—injustices like it were the kind of thing that left a stain on the land like an indelible blot of ink.

Muscles straining, Blake pulled her lower body up to where she could wrap her legs around one of the support beams. She faced herself towards the source of her ire, and locked her ankles together.

Immediately she felt release in her arm and back, sinews uncoiling like compressed springs. She let out a sigh of relief, even though they still burned.

The faraway cacophony continued below, or rather above, from Blake's perspective. Her sharp hearing occasionally picked up an extended scream or curse from her partner. Each one felt like a stab to her chest. More than anything, the uncertainty was killing her, and though she had the urge to continue, her body hadn't recovered enough to give more than a pathetic rap to the barrier in their way. Worry creased her features and guilt like venom began to seep into her heart.

 _I'm sorry, Yang. I'm the one that couldn't be trusted,_ she thought bitterly.

Blake reasserted her grip on Gambol Shroud, tugging it free of its holster. With both hands on the hilt of her weapon she extended her body, arching her back, and swung at the seized cog with a shout. It took all that she had with gravity working against her, but this time her cleaver had bitten through the machinery. The beam on which she was hanging to lurched uneasily, the sudden movement sending a start bolting through her heart. When it seemed like the platform had snagged again with no risk of falling, she let out a held breath and looked for her next target.

If fate was on their side, one more anchor loosed would be enough to make the platform fall in under its own weight.

She had to believe that this was the case. Exhaustion tore at her and she fought back doubt with every ounce of her willpower. As she crawled from the support strut to the next one closest to her third target, Blake wondered if she was going about this all wrong. Brute force would absolutely be Yang's tactic of choice, and it might have been more effective here with weakened metal than densely packed rock and soil like back in the grotto.

She felt her feline ears flick as a new sound came into her awareness. The whistling of the wind was more pronounced, but it was something that she ignored because of how the platform now sat ajar due to its missing cogs.

But then she felt it. Like a cold line drawn across her cheek, the wind was coming through _something_ directly above her.

Blake peeled her eyes and attempted to ascertain the source. After a long few seconds of searching, she saw it.

The line of a maintenance hatch.

 _Of course,_ she thought to herself. _The engineers had to have had some way to work on this thing in the past._

It was slightly parted due to the way the platform seemed to be warping. Occasionally, Blake heard the worn down metal give a creak even under her relatively small weight.

Carefully, she secured herself and inverted her grip on Gambol Shroud and raised it over her head. She held the pose a moment, gathering strength, and then drove the cleaver's flat end into the loose panel.

With a bang it gave, but the hatch fell back into place.

 _Again!_

The metal rang lowly, vibrations jarring her hands and lower arms.

 _Again!_

The hatch flew back out of sight as though all it needed to give was her shouting to accompany the blade. Her heart leapt at the cold wind that hit her face, and the air was sweeter than anything Blake could remember. As she inhaled deeply and felt to her core that they were about to be free from this nightmarish hole, her heart dropped.

The sounds of Yang's guns had stopped.

* * *

Yang was losing ground.

The onslaught of Grimm had not stopped since the first one attacked. She had managed to push the Creeps back to the gate the way that she had set it up before, but the fiends had figured out how to access the other breaches in the gate fencing to circumvent her intended path. The Grimm were not mindless, and though it was easy to forget that, Yang tried not to let the single-minded effort they expressed confuse her to that regard. There was no lack of stories of how mighty huntsmen were laid low for underestimating a few Beowolves.

Yang swung her left fist and flexed her forearm, but instead of a satisfying blast from the gun in her gauntlet there was but a click, and a sigh of heat from the depleted chamber.

 _Damn! Miscoun—_

Yang felt the ground leave her feet, and she hit the stone ground on her back. The air exploded from her lungs and she scrambled to reorient herself. From all directions she only saw approaching quartets of red dots. Her scroll's light danced across a half dozen grimacing, smoke-curled faces. With a curse she assumed a defensive stance and attempted to pad out the space between herself and her adversaries.

A sudden racket grabbed her attention as she looked back towards the gate. In the gloom, at the very end of her light's beam, towered an evolved form of these beasts. It went on four legs instead of the two of a typical Creep, and with its massive spikes of bony armor it wrenched what little remained of the fencing on the gate and tore through it. At the shoulder it was roughly twice the height of a normal Creep, but its face was unmistakably related, even with the extra growth of white and red plates on its face. For all she knew, this was one of the original Grimm that brought this mine's operations down.

Feeling her heart as it raced out of time, she looked towards the old foreman's office and sensed the beginnings of a plan. Imagining that her Dust reserves were running low in her arm cannon, she refrained from spending any more shots on the small fry. As one lunged, she clobbered it and sent it to the ground with a mouthful of shattered teeth.

 _Come on, Blake,_ she thought as she backed towards the old office. She didn't want to think about why she hadn't gotten the all-clear yet. The longer this went on, the less likely they were to escape from here. Granted, now that she wasn't providing as large a diversion as she wanted, the possibility that Grimm would interrupt Blake's role was significantly heightened.

Yang felt a thrumming on her chest. Her eyes darted, and she tapped on the scroll's button with shaky fingers.

 _[Yang! Are you okay?]_

Blake came through, and she sounded exhausted, which made Yang cringe inwardly. Did she have to defend herself, and is that why it took her so long to respond?

 _[Yeah… I'm running low on ammo, though. Trying to save it for the trip up.]_

Yang had to stop and defend herself, no doubt sending Blake a good sampling of alarming sounds and mental imagery. She heard Blake's voice calling out her name during the fracas, and Yang broke free of the small melee to jump halfway up the stairs to the mine's operations office.

 _[I'm here!]_ she answered with a hasty reassurance. _[I'm surrounded, though. There's an alpha here and it shredded the gate.]_ She shook a stale breath and tried to refresh herself. Her muscles ached terribly now that they'd gotten a moment's rest from the continuous battling. For the last several minutes she had been going more on instinct than thought. Thinking was dangerous, she often used to joke.

 _[Are you trapped?]_ Yang couldn't help but detect the alarm in Blake's voice. The situation looked _grim_ , she thought to herself with a rueful chuckle. But the recollection of the Blake apparition's words had gotten inside her head.

She knew it was stupid. But she also didn't want to risk more than was necessary. Blake sounded she'd just fought her own battle, and the last thing she wanted to think about was both of them having to make the climb to the top while hounded, especially when Blake had already done it once.

 _[No,]_ Yang said quickly. _[I have a plan. I'm gonna lure them to the office, then I'm gonna throw myself out the windows and make a break for it.]_

There was a considerable pause during which the snarling of the creatures grew closer and closer. Looking down from the top of the stairs, Yang could see a veritable sea of red pinpoints and the monstrous chief among them lumbering through the herd.

 _[Do you need me to meet you halfway?]_ Blake finally said.

 _[No!]_ Yang replied immediately. _[Is the way open?]_

 _[Yes,]_ came Blake's voice quietly.

 _[Then no use in both of us risking our lives.]_

Yang felt the small office shake. The beast was at the foot of the steps.

 _[Gotta go!]_ Yang added as she stepped back towards the windows.

Yang sucked in a breath.

The alpha lunged up with a crocodilian growl and took out the staircase and part of the supports with a swing of its massive tail. Ancient planks clattered deafeningly in a chamber already filled with feral noises and howls, and the office swayed treacherously under the lost support. Her muscles twitched as she moved to keep her balance on the precarious ground.

Yang tensed herself when she saw the large Grimm rear up on its hind legs.

As it threw out its clawed forelimbs, Yang covered her face and launched herself through the side windows of the office. Glass triangles glinted in the beam of her scroll as she tumbled and landed on hands and feet. The tinkling of crystals filled her ears as glass rained behind her, followed shortly by the cacophony of the small building imploding. Without looking back, she sprinted towards the ruins of the gate and took a recoil-powered leap into the far left elevator track from where she was standing. She hit it with teeth-rattling force, but she was intent on getting as much of a head start as she could.

The alpha's bellow reverberated in her bones as it did in the atrium. The mines below fell eerily silent, and then a thrill of danger shot through her as she realized that it was likely summoning _all_ the Grimm within the reaches of the mine to that area.

Yang felt her nerves run cold as a fresh surge of adrenaline dumped into her system. She took the grooves in the track two at a time, throwing in an occasional shot to give herself a little bit of a lead. Before too long she started hearing the keening snarls of the Creeps on her heels. If nothing more, it convinced her to push herself onward and upward through the seemingly empty space. Without being able to see, no matter how wide she willed her eyes, Yang felt like she was making no headway. It felt like she had been trapped in some kind of purgatory where effort yielded no results and there was no end in sight.

The adrenaline was beginning to wear down. Instead of ice in her veins, there was now fire. Her muscles began to quiver with lifts that she would have taken with laughable ease, and her legs started to feel like she had leaden weights tied to them.

Still there was no light to indicate the way out.

Her breath tore at her raw, dust-choked throat. Sweat ran down her arms and shoulders and it was beginning to make the grip on her left hand slick. Her eyes stung with grit and the sound of her heartbeat was thick in her ears, muffling the sounds of the terrors behind her. Before too long, she was only able to heave herself up one groove at a time. Her pace slowed to a point where she may as well have been walking versus her pursuers' easy sprint.

Yang heard the snapping of teeth in her ear.

She looked back. A Grimm's grinning face stared back at her, inches from her heel. Its muscles bunched up beneath its black exterior, gathering power, and its clawed limbs dug into the rocky earth of the unfinished walls.

Yang exhaled and brought her right arm around towards the Creep, wincing as her shoulder ached even with the light weight of the prosthetic. It felt as though even the shroud on her hidden gun was sluggish to arm.

The Creep leapt at her, its jaws beckoning.

A bullet caught it in the back of its mouth.

It went limp, mid-lunge, and dropped.

Yang dragged her eyes up as the creature fell away into the abyss. There, a few feet above, was her partner, her arm extended, Gambol Shroud's barrel hissing smoke.

"I told you," said Blake with a weak smile, stowing her weapon and offering a hand, "I'm not leaving."

Yang opened her mouth and let out a small breath, and though she was too exhausted to speak she gave a small smile of gratitude as she took the faunus' hand.

Blake demonstrated surprising strength by giving her a heave that carried her several grooves on the track. Yang caught back on when her momentum stopped, and Blake's voice rang out behind her.

"I'll hold them off!" she said between shots of her weapon. "I can see them perfectly. It's only twenty more meters up!"

Yang felt a relief she had not known for a while. She had gotten too used to watching her back, looking out for herself. Always being hyperaware, never trusting anyone or anything, even herself, exhausted her more than the climb she was on. The sound of Gambol Shroud popping and subsequent Grimm howls gave her all the encouragement she needed to push herself past the pain.

At last, Yang reached the dilapidated platform. Her mouth hung slightly when she saw the damage and started guessing at the way Blake went about it. Two of the gears were missing, and the remaining two were on diagonal sides from each other. She puzzled for a moment, but then she saw that it was done so that Blake minimized her risk at getting caught by the platform if it fell. She looked towards the rough center of the platform and saw the maintenance access, open and beckoning with freedom. Escape would be trivial but there was still the matter of the pursuing Grimm. And with the weakened platform... if they were followed out, neither of them looked to be in shape for a prolonged battle.

"Blake!" she shouted despite the burning in her lungs. "There's a big alpha down there!"

"I see it," her partner's withered voice responded. "My shots aren't doing anything to it!"

Yang could see a little clearer now. Blake had been anchoring herself to the wall using her weapon's scabbard so that she could fire with her free hand. The repositioning seemed to exact a tax on her endurance, but Blake seemed a good deal less worn out than she felt. She also hadn't been fighting Grimm for what seemed like hours.

"What are we going to do?" Blake's voice came again, this time a little closer.

Yang glanced at her prosthetic and flexed her fist. The shroud on the cannon drew back.

"Blake," she called, her plan materializing, "Get back up here!"

Yang was beneath one of the intact gear motors; the other undamaged one laid directly across the platform in the corner opposite the one she was in. Blake joined her shortly and looked at her, eyes wide and attentive.

"Hang on!" she said, and it didn't take Blake but a split-second to comply. Blake's eyes darted towards her arm cannon and the opposite side of the elevator shaft and wordlessly understood what Yang was about to do, and with an eye shut and a moment to steady her aim, Yang sent a flare whistling into the elevator's track.

The explosion easily blasted the rusted iron loose from its home and sent earth and metal spilling into the darkness. The platform groaned loudly from right above their heads, pulling both hers and Blake's attention. Yang instinctively crossed her firing arm over Blake to shield her with her body, eliciting a small gasp from the faunus. The air went tense, Blake's grip tightened on her, and that familiar sensation of danger shot up her spine like a thrill of electricity.

The metal a few feet above gave with a deafening snap, and the platform loudly pulled loose from the one remaining support it had. Yang pressed herself and her partner as far into the corner as she could as debris pelted them. As quickly as it had happened, the shadow passed over them and the air suddenly became fresher and less oppressive. Loud crashing like gongs thrown from a cliffside echoed down into the bottomless well, and the chorus of surprised Grimm caught in the falling structure vaguely reached their ears over the massive racket. Yang peered at Blake and caught her staring down into the shadows. It finally disappeared from even her observation, as she closed her eyes and let her head come to rest on Yang's shoulder.

At last the noise was gone. Everything was silent except for the wind and the sound of Blake's breath close to her ear.

* * *

 **Whew, that was a fun one to put together. Quite a bit late on this update because it kept going through editing, plus work hit hard along with the holidays. We can call this a late Nondescript Winter Holiday gift, right? The end is in sight, but there is still plenty of ground to cover! Please let me know what you thought; feedback is always welcome!**


	7. Sunrise

**VII**

 **Sunrise**

* * *

After a moment of rest and gathering strength, the two huntresses climbed the remaining few meters to their freedom from that black pit.

Yang emerged first and collapsed a few feet from the rectangular hole, eyes blinking rapidly. Whether it was from the dust or the cold, the dry mountain air or from the acclimation to more light than she had seen for the past several hours, Blake couldn't be sure. The taller huntress laid her head down on her forearm, breathing deeply for several beats, before she allowed herself to fall on her side and roll onto her back. That same forearm stuck to her eyes, and a sloped smile emerged as she laughed. Relief filled the sound, which echoed off the stone walls of the cutaway the elevator was sheltered in.

Blake let herself fall in besides Yang, close behind in case the brawler's grip slipped in her fatigue. As the back of her head touched the hard ground, her gaze meandered across the room's details. Old scaffolding hung about, ropes and pulleys and other derelicts wearing the same signs of abandonment that adorned the rest of the mining operation. There were conspicuously no tracks for mining carts here, so it must have been a thoroughfare mainly for equipment and personnel, or gravity Dust-powered conveyors were employed by whatever forgotten conglomerate or concern that once ran this mine. Mantle certainly had the technology at the time.

Stealing a glance, Blake saw Yang was nearly covered with soot. Her face, jacket, just everything was coated with rust and grime. Even her hair was dulled by the dust of the underground. Blake imagined that she herself looked the same, and she took a glance at her hands. Sure enough, she had a few small cuts that would soon be healed by her aura, in addition to gritty rust and black streaks staining her sunkissed skin. Her white coat probably looked more like a calico jacket judging by what she saw.

She heard a _click_ as Yang finally shut off the light on her scroll. The blonde sat up and forced herself to her feet, a precarious wobble in her step. Blake reached out, a cautious gesture, but Yang instead took it as an offer and hoisted the faunus to her feet with surprising strength. She made a small, surprised sound, and in the moment she was grateful for the blackening that obscured the heat she felt welling up in her face.

"Let's get out of here," Yang said, tugging Blake along for a few steps before releasing her hand. Wondering why she felt flustered worsened it and Blake willed herself to be silent to avoid embarrassing herself further.

A second (or third?) wind seemed to have hit her partner, but she could hardly blame her. With all the bad vibes and the Grimm that came with it, Blake was just as eager to be out of that mine as Yang was. Watching as Yang practically bounced out of there, she saw a glimpse of the girl she used to know. Blake forgot herself as her heart danced for a moment, and she quickly fell in behind the blonde.

An old metal shutter to a shedlike facade had long since fallen and been buried in forest detritus. The only sign that it was ever there was the loud banging that Yang's boots made on the metal just below the surface, sounds like a crooked cymbal bashed with a mallet that were vastly out of place in the tranquil predawn wood.

A few minutes' walking along a path that had all but been reclaimed by the forest brought them to a sight that left them both breathless. They'd arrived at a treeless clearing with a cliff that faced towards their destination, and before them the City of Mistral towered above a sea of clouds. Its darkened shape slowly took on color as the light grew, grandiose greens and resplendent reds and gold as oncoming sun chased away the predawn gray.

Yang strode up and wordlessly seated herself a few feet from the cliff's edge, a small sigh following. Blake flicked an ear, a familiar involuntary tic. She wondered if the blonde's second (or third?) wind was so brief.

"Are you okay?" she asked warily, slowly coming up on Yang's side. The blonde continued staring ahead, and Blake noticed what an awful, matted tangle her partner's beautiful hair had become.

"Yeah," she replied calmly, a gentle smile visible on her profile. "I just wanted to sit and… enjoy this."

Blake made an indistinct sound of acknowledgment as she looked out over the vista they alone were witness to. Idly she wondered how long it had been since anyone saw this side of Mistral. She considered the way the path and the facility looked, as well as the density of the vegetation and the lack of tracking, and she concluded that no one else had stood where they were since the time that the mine had been evacuated.

 _No,_ Blake's mind rebelled, — _abandoned_.

Not everyone had the privilege of escaping.

"What are you doing?" Yang's voice brusquely arrested her attention and dragged it by the chin towards the brawler. "Sit down. You gotta be tired, too."

Blake did feel a weariness weighing upon her now that the adrenaline high had worn away. The mountain air seemed much colder than she had initially thought, but that was probably a side-effect of her body cooling off after all the action.

She found a spot a few feet away from Yang's right and cleared her coattail, took a seat, and folded her legs beneath herself. From the corner of her eyes she caught a quizzical look from the blonde, but whatever had caused that questioning look in those lilac eyes remained unaddressed. Like Yang, she also turned a contemplative eye on the Mistral skyline.

Its many levels and rows of structures built into the facets of the mountain towered and became gradually more detailed in the retreating dawn. The last stars twinkled high above in a canvas of watercolor blue and gray, the clarity of it marred only by streaks of wispy white cirrus clouds curled sharply by the Mistrali winds. The layer of fog around Mistral was dense enough to make it look as though the city were floating in the sky itself; it gave the impression of being higher than they actually were, which Blake knew not to be the case because the air was still easy to breathe—it was indescribably refreshing after the stale, damp air of the mines. In the small patches where the fog didn't completely obscure the vast forests around Mistral, autumnal shades clung to the maples and oaks of the valley, gold and red and spots of pale green—brilliant in the presence of the evergreens that stood unchanging on this mountainside.

Further beyond, off to the left of their vantage point past Yang, was the blue-black line of the inland sea against which the city was nestled. Blake had already known how the surroundings of Mistral had inspired its artists and artisans for hundreds of years, but knowing the history was nothing like seeing the inspiration herself.

"It's beautiful," she heard Yang whisper serenely, and Blake thought sadly on how it sounded like the first time she seemed at peace in the time since they'd reunited.

"Yeah," was all Blake could salvage from her vast personal lexicon, and she instantly blamed it on her fatigue-addled mind which wandered a library of thought where the numbers and categories were in constant flux.

"Why are you sitting all the way over there?"

Blake froze and peeked at her partner, framing her in her sight to make sure that she had heard that right. After a moment without response, Yang turned her head slightly and shot her an expectant look, brow raised.

"Um…" Blake was certain that between her flattened ears and the strained voice she couldn't hide her anxiety. "No reason."

She shuffled closer to Yang until she could feel the warmth that was radiating off of the blonde. Hers was a more powerful ambient heat than others; she never did decide if that resulted from the strength of her aura or the metabolism that allowed Yang to eat complete garbage and never gain a pound.

Blake bit on her lower lip and looked down the cliff at the churning fog banks, wondering why the silence bothered her when in a time not so distant she would have appreciated the break in the chaos and the noise. A potent mix of curiosity and longing swirled together in her brain and dulled her sense of caution. She angled her head, a furtive glance aimed towards her partner.

Blake caught herself in the beam of those lilac eyes, beaten at her own game, and she gasped quietly.

"Yang?" She felt her face warm up and looked just away from her partner's face.

"You've been trying to get close to me all night," Yang said, a coy smirk tugging on the corner of her lips, "and now it's weird?"

"N-no! It's just... " Blake's mouth hung open for what seemed like too many seconds as she searched for a way to complete that thought. "I thought you needed space. I didn't think you _wanted_ me near." _Or even around,_ she added in thought.

Yang stared for a moment, then she gave a rueful chuckle—a dry, staccato note—and looked back towards the brightening skyscape. Her brows appeared to bunch up beneath her dirty bangs.

"A lot happened tonight," said Yang in a ponderous voice, "and I'm not sure I understand it all."

Blake flicked an ear, never retracting her eyes. "You're talking about the hallucinations, aren't you?"

The blonde didn't seem to move, but then Blake saw her giving an unsure, almost imperceptible nod.

"I've never seen or even read about a Grimm like that," Yang continued. "Have you?"

Blake frowned. Though she was well-read, the hallucination inducing creature was a new encounter for her as well. She looked off towards the Mistrali sky as she went back through her years of reading in the event that she had come across some kind of folklore that resembled the creature of Grimm they stumbled across in the appropriately named Delirium Grotto.

"I don't know about Grimm," Blake began, her chin pinched between her forefinger and thumb, "but the people of Mistral have written about a creature that they say resembled a clam. The sailors of the time said that it would create illusions on the sea that would drive boat crews insane and turn them against each other, and that over time it could change its shape to a bird… or a bat." She glanced back at Yang. "Ridiculous. Maybe the stories came from an encounter with a Grimm like that?"

Yang looked down and fell into thought.

"Yang," she said, willing her voice to be stronger than her usual susurrus, "whatever you—whatever _we_ saw down there was a lie." Blake again held her chin. "Maybe not a lie… maybe just the things that we were most afraid of seeing or hearing out of each other."

She felt as though she was coming nearer to the truth by voicing her ideas aloud. Blake looked up. Judging by the direct stare and slightly larger eyes, she had gotten Yang's attention.

"What did you see?" Yang asked, her face a mask even as fear colored her words.

Blake had to take a moment to compose herself. The recollection rattled her. Despite acknowledging that it was an illusion, the blows exchanged and words endured were real enough. The cold, dead eyes of her partner's shade still pierced a vulnerable part of her psyche, the same part that flinched away from the blood red of Adam's sword.

"You," she said as though the word was fire on her tongue. "You were angry, and hurt." She took a shivered breath. "Then you—your copy—came at me, and she… it… blamed me for everything. For Beacon, for…" Blake found herself unable to finish, using a quick glance towards Yang's right arm to punctuate instead of words that became clay in her throat. She seemed to pick up what she meant. "And then," Blake continued, "there was the bit about bringing misery to whomever I meet."

Her words seemed to drift across the open air. Blake loosed a shuddering breath, and Yang remained mysteriously quiet, although her eyes bespoke concern.

"Maybe I do," Blake added in a despondent drone. "Maybe you guys are better off without me."

She couldn't believe herself. Not a few breaths ago she had reassured Yang that the things they had seen were false, and here she was unraveling.

Silence again had its reign. Blake was grateful for it this time. It felt like a pressure valve had released in her chest, and she sighed through pursed lips to further vent that heavy feeling from before she burst.

"Here's what I know, Blake," Yang began evenly. Blake drew herself up and tried to look composed, her attention on the blonde and her intense eyes.

"I wouldn't have made it out of there by myself," she continued, her voice slightly unsteady. "Without your eyes, your ears, the things you knew about navigating a mine, your skills… I would have been lost, at best. Another dead huntress, at worst."

Blake felt a chill tingling across her skin at how matter-of-factly, how evenly she made that observation. When had Yang become so resigned?

"I trained hard to get back into shape. I had to change a lot of my style. No more standing and eating hits, no more headbutting things until they die." Yang allowed herself an airy chuckle, one that made Blake comfortable enough to smile at. But her mirth was short lived, a sadness soon shadowing her otherwise bright eyes, and Blake felt the pit return to her stomach.

"I'm… not sure it's enough," Yang said. Her boots scuffled along the rocky ground as she put her legs out in front of herself and reclined on her hands.

"Enough?"

"To protect Ruby. Weiss." Lilac eyes darted back at her. "You."

Blake felt like her hardened heart had cracked like glass when Yang took an unsteady breath through her nose; she was not remiss of the way that Yang raised her chin and tried to look unaffected. She had always seen Yang as the passion and the power of the team. _Strength,_ she described her to Sun, but it was more than just physical prowess she was talking about. Her heart was an aegis of fire, ready to shield and comfort any one of them at the first sign of need—and Blake had been the frequent beneficiary of the blonde's benevolence. Her partner seemed burnt down to the wick, alight for so long that only embers and oily smoke remained.

She had to guard the flame. If it went out, what hope did she have for herself?

"But that's exactly why we were sorted into pairs, Yang," Blake began after a moment, a masterclass in repressing emotions underway. On the other hand, she felt her feline features betraying her already, and she stopped short of wishing that she had the bow back. "We were always meant to look out for each other. One of us can't do it all, no matter how incredible her deadlift is." Blake gave a pointed look to Yang. For her efforts Blake caught a glimpse behind the clouded features, a soft scoff that was almost a laugh. The sound helped uncoil her nerves.

"That's something I still didn't get, until recently; I had to learn the hard way," she added lowly. "And even though our time at Beacon got cut short," she continued, her eyes gravitating back to Yang's face, "and the whole partner system doesn't mean much anymore… I would still pick you." She allowed a beat. "I still do," she said evenly.

Blake let out a breath through her nose; she had avoided breaking.

But she felt a renegade tear sliding down her cheek.

By the time she noticed it, Yang was already reaching out to wipe it away. Her eyes were filled with concern, and deep down inside Blake knew that she wouldn't be able to conceal her feelings from Yang for long. She stiffened and watched Yang's approach, but as though it had hit a barrier of perfectly clear glass, she stopped. Blake noticed the surreptitious look Yang gave to her prosthetic hand. The blonde relented and drew back, apprehension growing on her dirt streaked features.

Blake quickly seized onto her retreating hand, and she could not stop the way her feline ears shot up in surprise.

It was _warm_.

She expected the cold artifice of titanium and polymer composites, the ambient chill of a soulless implement, but instead it was like a comfortably warm surface—unyielding but… alive.

Yang was staring, her eyes as wide as blooming violet cosmos, and she was wordless like she understood what was happening but waited for Blake to say something about it. Their eyes passed over the sight, and instead of speaking, Blake gently guided her partner's hand to her face and closed her eyes.

She listened to the tiny mechanical motors turning in the prosthetic. If it hadn't been for her faunus gift, she likely couldn't have heard them at all; they were very quiet, even if she focused. The motion in the hand was natural and lifelike, nuanced and imperfectly genuine. She felt as the pad of Yang's thumb brushed over her tear-stained cheek with nostalgic gentility, and the warmth she felt from the palm guaranteed that it wouldn't be the last one shed.

She had thought that this was a connection that she had thrown away forever, that she would never again be subject to its comfort. Her heart slowed even though each beat felt like a hammer against her chest in a bid for escape.

"I can feel it," Blake said, her voice scarcely louder than the morning breeze. "Your aura." She felt her lips curving into a smile under their own instinct. "Of course. We treat our weapons like extensions of ourselves. We project our aura into them. Your hand is no exception." She opened her eyes and looked at the woman on the other end. "But this is effortless; you're not even trying."

"I didn't really notice," Yang admitted lowly. "I just did the first thing I thought of when I saw…" She trailed off, and Blake couldn't tell why; her eyesight was a bleary mess from the tears trickling down her face. "... I saw you hurting," she managed to finish.

She had seen that broken look on Yang's face again, a brief but unmistakable clouding, in the moment that she had reached out. Regardless of her own pain, Yang was still trying to give what little she had of herself to erase the smallest bit of sadness she detected. Blake couldn't stand to see the hesitation, how she saw her replacement limb instead of herself and felt incomplete.

Blake pulled away and sat on her heels. She avoided meeting Yang's gaze, observing her out of the direct line of her vision while she propped herself back up on her hands.

"You are not broken," she said suddenly, looking back towards the blonde. Yang's mouth came open, and Blake cut in before words could be released. "Injured, maybe, but you'll bounce back. You always do." Blake shook her head before her thoughts took a turn too dark.

"This isn't what hurts me most, Blake," Yang said, finally getting a word in. She looked at the prosthetic hand, its fingers— _her_ fingers, Blake corrected thoughts—communicating contemplation with their idle flexing. For watching them, Blake almost became distracted from the storm clouds gathering over her partner's expression. Before she could voice concern, lightning struck.

"Why did you run?"

Blake felt like she had been caught barebacked in the freezing rain, and her breath hitched in kind. She knew this day was coming. For the better part of a year, she had gone over what she might say if the hour ever arrived. At one point, she was convinced that it never would, so sure she was that she would be in exile forever. Even in her somberness, Yang Xiao Long had a way of making one feel small by proximity. Blake did not even feel _worthy_ to approach, and the fact that Yang deigned to talk to her first had some significance, but the meaning of that was lost to the seizing fear of how she might be judged. Blake knew better than to believe that it was done out of malice, or even intentionally, but Yang had the enormity of a Valerian hero; brash, smoldering, bravery without reproach.

She had stepped back into war with an injury that would have retired most _professional_ huntsmen.

In the face of her partner's accomplishments, any reason or excuse that she had composed in her best mental rehearsals felt as inadequate as a glass of water in the parched Menagerie wilds. She ran from it, feared it, but still her Day of Judgment came.

Blake took what felt like her last breath.

"When you found me," said Blake, the vague sensation that she was stepping into a minefield at the forefront of her mind, "Adam had just finished telling me that he was going to make it his life's mission to destroy everything that I loved." Deferentially, she lowered her eyes. "And he saw when I noticed you. I was forced to watch in horror as he made good on his promise." A cottonlike lump rolled about in her throat, and she marveled briefly at how long they had both gone without a drink of water.

"I don't know how I did it," Blake continued hoarsely. "I was wounded and angry and scared, but I managed to escape and got us to the evacuation zone. When I knew that you were safe… I left." She willed her eyes to become blank in fear of what Yang might find in their amber glow. "I ran, and I didn't look back. I was convinced that I had fooled myself thinking that I could build a new life at Beacon, that I dared to think that I could have friends, and leave my old life behind. When I started, I had no intention of getting close to anyone; but you all—" _especially_ a certain blonde, "—changed that."

Blake felt her eyes take on a self-pitying mist, but her anger swelled and she condemned her tears to isolation; they had no right to reveal themselves. "I'm just sorry that you had your life ruined because of me."

She stared ahead at the city in the distance. The clouds. Mistrali lamps in the dawn gloom. Anything but Yang. She might as well have been floating in space the way her nerves had become deadened.

"You need to stop that," said Yang quietly, heated steel in her tone of voice. "You can't blame yourself forever for the crazy people that want to hurt you," she continued, her pitch elevated. "Even if they come at us to do it. You walked away from that life!" Yang roughed her face, finally smearing away some of that grime that had been clinging to her. "What I don't get is how you thought throwing us away was a solution. Why, Blake? Why didn't you trust us to help you?"

"I was… scared," Blake said after a moment of consideration. "Seeing you that way, I felt sick. I had to get away. If he wanted me to suffer, I would rather suffer alone. I felt like we only escaped because Adam wanted me to live with the regret," she said, flinching when she saw the beginnings of Yang's scowl. "I guess he succeeded."

A silence lapsed between them. Watching Yang from her periphery, she saw what seemed like a lost look in her eyes, as if the answers she had given did nothing to answer the questions in her heart. Her curiosity elevated at how Yang's eyes weren't the fireballs she had seen so many times in her guiltborne daymares; she almost wished that they had been, because at least that way she couldn't harbor false hope. Blake swallowed hard and spoke out of turn.

"I hurt you," she whispered. "In your darkest hour, I was selfish and I pushed you all away, and I hurt you worst of all," she continued quickly and in hushed tones. "I know that now."

"It wasn't because I failed you?"

Blake looked up, her eyes incredulous and scalding with suppressed tears. "What?" she said, uncertain that either of her four ears had heard right.

Yang glanced up at Blake from beneath tangled bangs, a look of sullen shame hanging on her normally bright features.

"Failed," she repeated, her words careful and low. "To protect you."

She let her mouth fall open. "No," she whispered, shaking her head softly. "It was never about that. Why would you think that?"

"Well. When you left, all I could think about was what I did wrong. I wondered what I could have done to change your mind." Her eyes scanned downwards. "If I gave everything that I had and it still wasn't enough, what chance did I have?"

If she hadn't exhausted her reservoir of tears there would be a fresh cry here. A dry pain in her chest was all she got for her heartache. "I didn't know," Blake said, her voice cracking in the dry air. "I'm sorry," she pleaded, eyes squeezed shut and head shaking. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry—"

"I know better now, too." Coming from Yang, those words could have been ominous if not for the strangely soothing tone she used. "I guess I could have been more understanding. Everyone tried to tell me that you probably had a good reason, but I was just… so angry, and hurt… and then lonely." She paused to take a breath, though most of it left her as a sigh soon after. "It's been a journey," she finished sarcastically, her hand flapping otiosely.

"Yang, I… I didn't know," Blake said again, her words lacking conviction, limbs and shoulders sagging. "I was such a coward. I don't deserve to be forgiven."

"I know," Yang said, her voice like the rustle and sigh of the nearby evergreens. Her chest rose with a breath, and released in a measured sigh. "I'm forgiving you anyway."

Blake sat up suddenly, her eyes widened to a point of discomfort and all her features electrified with the shock of her partner's words. Whatever she thought to try and say failed and left her throat as soft, strangled noises.

"But only if you forgive yourself," Yang added quickly, her gemstone eyes liquid with concern.

"How can I forgive myself for breaking your trust?" Blake managed after her stunned silence. "You were there when I needed you, and when you needed me, I ran—"

Blake felt Yang's hand fall on her knee. Her eyes shot to it and followed its gleaming length up to her face, where she met an ardent stare, and at that moment the red sun crested the horizon in the east. Her dust-dulled hair caught the sudden morning light like a solar fire, and it was as though the golden pyre burned away her guilt and left only the thoughts about how breathtakingly angelic she looked in the sunrise and the Mistrali wind that fed the flame-touched curls. The power of her war-torn figure did not obscure the gentle light in her eyes, nor did the firmness of her voice subvert the kindness of her touch.

"That's the thing about trust, Blake," Yang said, her eyes refusing to stray from hers. "You give someone complete power over you, and they can just… destroy you."

Blake looked back down at the hand on her knee. She wasn't sure if she could do this again. It seemed too easy, in spite of everything they had just gone through. But at a glance, Yang's eyes shone with a kindness and warmth that she had been missing; it was the kind of look that she had longed for on many a sleepless night on her time away from her team. It wasn't as though Sun didn't do his best to fill in, but he wasn't the one that she needed relief from.

"I trust you, Blake."

The ears atop her head fanned forward before her eyes followed. The words echoed in her head a few times before she had properly processed them.

No hallucination. No delirium.

Blake looked at Yang as though she was offering up her heart in a box, and the guilt that she had dragged from one end of Remnant to the next was doing everything in its power to bind her hands and keep Blake from taking it. She felt criminal enough for daring to think that they could ever have a functional relationship again, but destiny conspired to bring them to this moment. From the moment they had reunited, Blake desired nothing more than the acceptance of her old partner, and now that it was being given to her she felt terror as her heart beat against her chest.

Terror that she might again injure her partner, this time irreparably.

She thought she saw a flutter of rose petals among the autumn winds in the valley below. A long distant memory of love grown poisonous passed idly in her mind, along with the shadow of a man that she used to believe had cared for her.

 _I won't let you control me anymore,_ she thought. And with that, it was as though a padlock fell from her heart, and it no longer hurt to breathe.

Blake looked at the space in between them, as if there were a literal offering to be passed between them.

"Are you sure?" the noirette asked, her voice oddly muted.

"Honestly, I'm not." A sorrowful cast crossed Yang's eyes. "But I guess there needs to be a starting point."

It felt like an incomplete thought. Yang had hitched her breath, her lips shaped as though in preparation of forming a new word. For whatever reason, she thought better of it. Blake saw the doors closing, and she felt a flutter of panic.

"Yang," she began, mustering all her strength in keeping her voice steady, "I will be here for you." She caught a doubtful glance from the blonde, what may as well have been a knife. Blake tried to ignore the hurt, feeling that the moment was not about her. "I know that that doesn't mean much to you right now. But whatever is waiting for us out there, I won't let you face it alone."

Yang's eyes were fixed on the faunus, attentive and, she knew, searching for any hints of dishonesty. Being under Yang's scrutiny would have made even the hardiest desert rose wilt, and it was exhausting to maintain her composure in the face of the blonde. But to turn away and not face the subject would have been even worse; she was not running. Not anymore.

"Blake," said Yang, her eyes aglow, "I'm just… glad you're here."

Blake smiled at Yang, misty eyes filled by the morning sun. Tacitly she leaned herself into Yang and hugged the blonde as though she might vanish with the morning fog. She felt her partner's eyes upon the side of her head and the sensation kindled apprehension; Blake was briefly fearful that she had taken a misstep and would find herself pushed away.

But that did not happen. It continued to not happen, and Blake soon discovered herself in a strong embrace. Blake was tired of tears, but the few that escaped from her amber eyes were a long time in coming. No longer did she feel like she was stealing comfort, tolerated only because she was a team member.

Even if they had to start over from the first step, Blake had hope.

* * *

 **This chapter was brought to you by repeat listens to Star-Stealing Girl and Delain's _Scarlet_. How emotionally exhausting. It virtually wrote itself, as I had a clear vision of what it had to be, but such an important scene demanded careful editing and consideration. I give special thanks to my dear friend A, an avid reader who beta read this chapter and always supports me in whatever I do. There was more that I wanted to include, but for the sake of not running overlong and damaging the poignance of this update, I believe that it is better relegated to its own chapter; please look forward to that. As always, feedback is highly appreciated, and I hope you all enjoy this update and stay with me for the next one!**


	8. Scars

**VIII**

 **Scars**

* * *

Yang and Blake sat by the cliff for a while and basked in the new day's light until their bodies again felt warm and alive. Despite the cold air, the wind was calm and allowed the rays of the sun to revitalize the two novice huntresses. They shared few words after their conversation, small talk if anything, and instead enjoyed each other's presence in a companionable still. When the sun had risen high enough to regain its golden crown, they got themselves up and prepared for the walk back to Mistral.

Blake found herself walking the perimeter of the clearing to locate the remains of the path; off close to the place where they had been sitting, Yang dialed in the coordinates of the mine on her scroll and obtained an area map to help them navigate back to the city. They agreed that it was best to record the location of the site so that Haven Academy could further evaluate the threat the mine and its Grimm inhabitants posed and deal with it if need be.

For her mission, it didn't take long for Blake to pick up on the beginnings of the path. What was once a heavily traveled footpath was now mostly overgrown and all but hidden to the common eye, but it appeared as though the trail had been partially preserved by the movements of the wildlife in the region. This was good, she thought—it meant the concentration of Grimm was low here. That was possibly why they weren't as numerous on the surface, she thought; perhaps they'd spilled into the mines by unknown avenues, where the blight of human and faunus suffering was the most dense.

Blake called out and beckoned towards Yang just as the blonde appeared to finish up with the business on her scroll.

"What's up?" she asked, eyes drifting down to the partly revealed path.

"Here's the trail," she said to Yang, hand out towards the road-become-game trail. "We're lucky; it looks like the animals here have been keeping it from completely disappearing."

"Thank you, raccoons," Yang said, smirking like she was the only one in on a joke. She then waved her scroll indicatively before pocketing it. "Comms are still weak but I sent Ruby a message."

"What did you tell her?"

"I couldn't sleep so I went on a walk," Yang said with a casual shrug, "I framed it as a patrol. Getting back this late, I know I'm gonna hear about it either way."

"Oh," Blake breathed, her expression blank. "You're not afraid she's going to be worried about you?"

Yang's easygoing smile waned and her head turned towards their expected path; she gazed off into the woods without a word for just a second too long. Blake tried to discern the look in her eyes, but it was an like trying to read a book on its edge.

"Of course I am," Yang huffed, discomfort and exasperation mixed in her tired voice. "I know she is. But she has too much on her mind to bother her with it, and… she can't help anyway." Her eyes darted to Blake preemptively. "No one can."

Blake pitched her face downwards, a frown drawing her lips and feline ears into a concerned skew. "Yang," she began quietly, but she found herself interrupted by the vigorous shaking of Yang's head.

"I know what you're going to say," the blonde cut in, her eyes still searching the woods for some nonspecific target, "and... I appreciate it. But this is something that I have to deal with on my own." Her tone descended, crestfallen, but it came across in a way that would brook no questioning. As if to remove all doubt, Yang began marching down the trail. Blake watched her back as she went, a clawing sensation in her stomach as the ears on her head flattened out. Seeing that she was getting left behind, and without another word, she fell in behind Yang and began the journey back to Mistral.

* * *

They had long concluded that they weren't going to make it back to Mistral before the others were aware that they were gone. Yang seemed certain that Ruby wouldn't be waking up any earlier than she had to, but Nora would surely have had everyone stirring by sunrise if the short time that Blake had spent with them so far was any indication. For the moment there seemed to be no response to Yang's message, so either Ruby remained fast asleep or she had simply forgotten to respond to it. Blake thought of the latter as unlikely; Ruby was attached to her scroll whenever there was downtime.

She wondered if that was still the case. For that matter, if anything was still the same as when she had parted ways with her team.

She hadn't had much time to speak with them on a personal level. Or was it inclination? Looking back, Blake was certain that she could be further along in reconnecting than she was. She was letting her anxiety and guilt restrain her, that particular feeling of having no right to engage them on a level of familiarity. It seemed disrespectful, going awol and then attempting to resume relations as though nothing had happened. She had since observed some differences in their personalities; Ruby seemed more thoughtful. Weiss was less pointed, almost soft at times. They seemed welcoming enough, simply gladdened to be together again, but her anxiety remained. If Yang could find it in her heart to forgive her, even if not entirely, then surely Ruby and Weiss would feel similarly.

Blake had but to look at herself and realize how much she had changed over the past year. And her partner, well—if someone had told her that Yang Xiao Long had become a reserved, brooding person, she wouldn't have believed it without seeing it first.

It hurt. That was her doing, wasn't it? Or was the cheer always a mask?

For whatever reason, Yang insisted on taking the lead instead. For the time since they had left the cliff side, she had been taciturn. Her eyes seldom left the way forward, and Blake was not remiss of the way her hands were clenched into fists or the tightness with which her shoulders moved. Her whole body was a tightly wound spring ready to explode.

Blake felt a knot in her chest as she watched her partner shutter herself off yet again. Not an hour ago it felt like she had regained access to Yang's heart of hearts, but now that fog of tension had returned. Somberly she wondered if the moment that they shared at the cliff was something that she had imagined. Inevitably, she began to wonder if it was something she said that had caused Yang to retreat into herself again, even after the assurances she whispered to the stalwart blonde. She meant every word, yet she knew she couldn't blame her if she didn't believe her outright. It would be foolish to believe that everything could be smoothed over overnight, literally, even after fighting through monsters both real and imagined.

As she watched Yang, her coated figure shoving through the close-grown foliage like an implacable beast, she felt the urge to speak squelched by a fear of her partner's response. A fear of coming off as bothersome. Even if she could muster up the courage to speak, Blake could barely think of the words to say. The environment was partly responsible for that. The air of the wood was loud with birdsong. Every cry and chirp and warble seemed to increase in intensity the more Blake dwelt in her own head, and without knowing it her ears were flat against her head just to help mitigate the sting of the shrill birdcalls.

At least it was a good sign; it indicated few, if any, Grimm.

Normally, Blake would be at point in an excursion such as this. The times when Yang or the rest of Team RWBY relied upon her heightened senses were uncountable, at least to her. She had since come to accept it as one of her expected duties; it was her "role" in the team, and her time in the White Fang had prepared her well for being an advance scout.

The path wended and wound. The altitude decreased and they came to a wider portion of the path that doubled back on itself as it descended the mountain face. Metal posts and wire fencing, despite its age, lingered as a rust-covered momento of the people who had carved out this route. They followed this, the bird's eye vista disappearing from view as they descended into the autumnal vale; a dense canopy of red and gold leaves surrounded them, then covered them. No longer was the walk quiet; every step brought up a crunch of fallen leaves from an ankle-deep bed. The air, crisp and cool, became muggy as well when they entered the valley.

Of course, the path was gone. If not overgrown by the foliage of the wood, then certainly buried under uncountable leaves. Silently, they both decided that the best way to proceed was forward, in a straight line, towards Mistral. Blake scanned their surroundings while her ears flexed and fanned, searching for sounds of interest or alarm as though under their own will. After a little while walking, she paused; her sensitive hearing began picking up on a distant bubbling—an indistinct but clear sign of water.

Blake was suddenly, painfully aware of how very thirsty she was. She didn't have to imagine that Yang was, too.

"Hey," Blake called, at first almost a sigh. She cleared her throat, and in a more elevated voice called, "Yang!"

She managed to capture a sullen lilac glare, and in response she pointed off in the direction that she heard the water from. Yang's features soon reflected curiosity rather than self-consumed brooding, and Blake took that as her permission to go.

She leapt through the underbrush and went swiftly through ferns and underneath fallen oak boughs, swinging around trunks and hopping roots before she finally arrived at the edge of a large stream that seemed to have its origins from the very mountain they'd just descended. Its shallow waters tumbled soothingly over large, smooth stones in its bed and the crystal clear mountain melt beckoned.

Blake dropped to her knees and scooped a handful of water to her mouth. The liquid burned like cold fire across her lips and down her throat, and she savored the relief it brought after walking, running, climbing and fighting all night without a single drink. After the initial gulp she rapidly took several more before the urgent thirst was satisfied and she could relax for a moment. Hunger was starting to bother her as well, but Blake figured they'd have time enough for that once they returned to Mistral. She wasn't even sure if she would resist fatigue enough to eat before sleeping.

At this point Yang had finally caught back up. Her heavy footsteps came to a halt off towards Blake's left, and just as it seemed like she was about to levy questions at Blake for her cryptic behavior, she saw the stream and immediately accepted its invitation. Without a word shared between them, Yang was at the bank, splashing water into her face and down her tortured throat.

Blake watched Yang with a furtive smile before looking back to the stream. The water moved swiftly at points, but its surface ran smooth enough at the bank that she could see her reflection. Her smile inverted; she disapproved her appearance, the thickness of the grime and soot on her face, and she could see that it was similarly stuck across her body.

Blake decided to do something about it, and she followed Yang's lead in splashing water across her face. Scrubbing with her palms, she occasionally pulled her hands away and watched as greasy red and gray rivulets ran down her knuckles. She repeated the process until the waters seemed to be running clear, and she waited for the waters to smooth out so that they could show her her refreshed appearance.

Staring back was a tired but otherwise young and hale cat faunus. Her black hair was still in visible distress and it would remain that way until she had access to her toiletries back at the house, and the blue eyeshadow that she was fond of had come off in the wash. Blake prodded gingerly at the bags under her eyes and tried to remember the last time she got a full night's rest.

She glanced at Yang anxiously before she considered her next action. The blonde seemed to be distracted with her own ventures, washing her face as Blake had just done, picking at her golden locks in a vain attempt to fix her hair. After a little back and forth in her head, she relented—Blake couldn't stand the feeling of partial cleanliness. Perhaps her father was right and she should have chosen her combat gear with more consideration to protection, but from the elements rather than enemy blades.

Blake shed her coat with a shrug, quickly before she lost her nerve, and she threw a handful of the chilly water over her abdomen, suppressing a hiss as the droplets lanced through her like hair-thin needles of ice. She repeated the action without a second thought, and again, and again. After the initial shock, Blake was only vaguely aware of the sensation of water running over her body, her skin now numbed by the cold.

"What are you doing?" she heard Yang from her side, amusement and confusion blended into her words. Blake had no delusions about avoiding notice, and she looked over at her with a lopsided grin that bespoke embarrassment and… a little playfulness, maybe. Yang had her arms crossed, her head tilted just so, a stern and almost matronly look to her. But then a simper started pulling at her lips. The change in expression relieved Blake, and it seemed the water had lifted the blonde's spirits considerably. But now she felt a little exposed; the flicker of those lavender irises betrayed a wandering gaze.

"You're gonna catch a chill out here," said Yang, her simper morphing into a helpless grin. Blake smiled back, slightly flustered. The concern was touching, but Blake still thought to quell Yang's protectiveness.

"I'll be fine," she said with a dismissive wave. "I spent plenty of time sleeping in the cold and damp when I was with the White Fang."

Something began to darken Yang's eyes. It was subtle, but the change was such that Blake hitched her breath. Her partner seemed distant, eyes unfocused and fixed on a point beyond the trees. The concern had gone out of them and been replaced with something dangerous. Suddenly, the smile was also gone, lips twisted by a snarl. The air around her went taut, and it felt as though the atmosphere hung on a wire about to snap.

Blake's body jumped under its own instinct as a sapling exploded a meter behind her. The sound deafened and set her feline ears flat against her head, her human pair ringing. Her muscles went tense, and splinters and wood chips pelted against her shoulderblades. Her eyes darted back behind her, widened and searching for a source of danger. Immediately she felt the sting from the debris still polluting the air.

When she could again open her eyes she looked back to her partner and gasped. Yang was poised aggressively. Smoke hissed from the barrel on her prosthetic arm's cannon, and her chest heaved under labored breaths. Beyond the gleaming arm Yang's eyes burned scarlet, their pupils narrowed to points.

Blake was frozen in place, and she was sure she ill concealed her horror; her jaw was locked in place, teeth grinding, and her eyes felt unable to blink or separate from the enraged blonde as she fought her every instinct to bolt for cover. Sudden movements just seemed like a poor idea in the moment.

Quickly as it had happened, Yang regained her faculties. Her eyes were the first thing to change as the fire burnt out and left only fearful purple irises quickly latching onto the bewildered faunus. Her stance softened and her breath evened out—stopped—when she appeared to regain awareness of her surroundings and what had just happened.

Their eyes met, each pair a different shade of fear.

"Blake!" the taller cried, almost voicelessly. Her weapon retreated, her blank expression gradually filling in as she put events together and her role in them.

"I—!"

Blake could only stare, apprehension still rooting her to her spot, tension preventing her vocal cords from functioning properly. Yang stumbled backwards over a heavy step, her face a mosaic of anger and sorrow. Just as Blake began to overcome her alarm and gathered the courage to respond, Yang whipped around and disappeared into the woods in a blur of leather and gold.

* * *

The swears in Yang's personal repertoire were legion, but no combination of them felt appropriate for describing the consequences she was imagining from her actions.

For Yang, it was about control. The past year had been spent with an emphasis on self-mastery. Control your anger. Control your actions. Control your _fear._

She had been doing well, down to this moment. The realization at how suddenly and easily one could slip sent her flying from her partner. Until she regained herself, she couldn't face Blake.

Even now, she wasn't sure of what she was doing. Trees and leaves and cool air tore by her and she was only vaguely aware of it as she crashed through the autumn wood in her dead sprint. Branches caught errant strands of her hair; she ignored the pain of precious roots torn out. The deep bed of fallen leaves made it hard to keep her balance at times, and beneath the layers the occasional exposed root threatened to give her another twisted ankle. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes and the only thing that kept them dry was the wind hitting her face.

She had no idea where she was going. Yang had picked a direction and went. Somewhere, anywhere, just _away from Blake_. Away, before she did another _stupid_ thing in front of her and gave her an actual reason to detach again.

The fearful look, her stiffened posture. _She had seen it._ Blake _knew_. And she _couldn't_ know that she was this far gone.

Her lungs burned. How long had she been running at full pelt? Yang couldn't even trust her reckoning of time anymore.

Yang slowed as her legs began to give. Her better sense began to return to her, and she knew she couldn't afford to injure herself again. She came to a small copse of maples in a jog. She leaned against one of the smaller trees, breaths ragged; at her side she felt her hand trembling, and it triggered an aggressive disgust. She punched the tree with a pained scream.

Her left hand, still her own. Yang took a minute to focus on her breathing, and a warmth in her glove prompted her to relax. She pulled away bloody knuckles, having neglected her aura's protection. Still, they were in a better state than they had left the tree.

Blake's face, perplexed fear still as clear as the sun in the sky, haunted her mind's eye. Her heart felt like a burnt out piece of coal, brittle and falling to pieces. Leaning against the battered maple trunk she gently tapped her forehead to it, willing herself not to cry in anger. She knew she had to compose herself lest she attract Grimm, but Yang was finding it very difficult not to hate herself. From start to finish, the entire night had been her fault. She could face down her disability, her mother, the demons in the dark, the phantom of her friend… but she had no answer for the monsters of the mind.

She heard rapid footfalls coming up on her location. Distantly she heard them in the quiet wood, even among the sparse bird calls. They were loud, as though their owner didn't care if she was heard coming. It was very uncharacteristic of her, and even though Yang knew who it was, she didn't dare to remove herself from the trunk against which she hid her face.

"—ang!" she heard, the voice withered and frightened. "Yang!" it called again, louder and more urgent.

The footsteps stopped right behind her.

"Yang! Hey?"

She felt the warmth of an approaching hand, but her shoulder convulsed beneath it as though it was made of ice.

"I'm sorry," Yang forced out hoarsely, the words she couldn't finish collecting at the stream.

The air went quiet enough that she could hear her partner's every small breath, each tiny hitch as she hesitated for words. Yang bit on her lip as she wondered what was going through her mind. Had she ever seen her in such a panicked state? A few more minutes elapsed and her breathing was almost normal again, but still nothing was said. A minute more and Yang worked up the courage to pull herself away from the tree. Her eyes felt heavy with liquid, like the slightest provocation would cause the levee to break. It took every ounce of her willpower to not crack when she saw the desperate look in Blake's reflective eyes, the lilt of her catlike ears, the tension and sag of her posture replete with a helpless sadness. Blake wanted to reach out to her, that was plain to see. Yang wished she had something to suggest.

"Are you alright?" Blake asked, her voice even but low, like she knew she was treading dangerous ground.

"I—"

No amount of spinning excuses would explain what Blake had just seen. Yang knew better than to write Blake off as a fool, which was exactly why she tried to remain aloof around her. Around everyone, really, but Blake especially. More than ever, the situation they were in was too serious to interrupt with her emotional issues. Like everything else, like she always ever had, Yang resolved to work through it as they dealt with other things.

Moreover, she didn't need to be giving her teammates reasons to doubt. Facing down Raven and bringing back the Relic gave everyone some confidence in her abilities.

Everyone, except her.

In a split-second, she had revealed the extent of her damages, and now Blake had to know that the scars ran deeper than the arm she had lost. At least in those times she could mask the pain with stoicism. But when the _images_ hit her, when her nightmares visited in her wakefulness, her muscles would cede control to fear. She damned the betrayals of her own brain, and she wanted to scream again, but for the sake of not hurting Blake any more than she already had, she fought it down. Down, down until it hurt only in her core. She focused on the pain in her left hand, bruised bones and split skin.

Yang took a shuddered breath.

"Every day, I feel less and less like myself, Blake," she said while combating her trepidation. Her eyes panned about, a token effort at making sure that they were still on their own. She knew on the inside that Blake would know long before she if they were in any danger, but she wasn't unaware of the way the faunus seemed to be making her into her singular focus.

Blake looked dejected briefly, like she couldn't find the words for a response and felt the worse for it. Instead of speaking she tried again to put a hand on Yang's shoulder, approaching slowly.

This time she allowed it, or rather her body did. Her muscles were tensed into rock, but as soon as Blake's gentle touch landed she felt her thawing influence. Yang glanced at Blake's hand, and gradually she let herself sink towards her. She kept her eyes forward, avoiding contact.

"Please talk to me, Yang," Blake murmured closely. "I need to know that you're okay."

 _I'm not,_ she thought. _But I have to be._

Another minute passed without words, but Blake waited patiently while Yang did a poor job of repaying that patience. Through her half-lidded eyes she watched Blake, trying to read her queues. The faunus continued to apply gentle strokes to her shoulder through the hand that she had cupped upon it, quietly waiting for a response from her. She was silent, but not unthinking. The way her golden eyes jumped around minutely indicated that she was stealing glances at her face, trying to read her in much the same way she was trying to do to her. By chance, their eyes met, and each quickly averted.

"I get… visions," Yang said, her voice vacant. The wide-eyed look she received was all the confirmation she needed.

"I see things," she continued, "or people, and I know it's in my head but…"

She squeezed her eyes shut like she'd been hit with a migraine.

"I thought you were in danger again. I can't be sure, what's real and what's not." In danger of _what_ she didn't specify, but she thought that was understood. Yang's gaze drifted hesitantly towards the scar on Blake's abdomen.

"I get no warning," she added, deadpan. "Some things cause it. Most of the time, it just happens." She let out a breath, as though saying that was much more difficult than she made it sound.

Yang was vaguely aware of how Blake took her right hand. When Yang looked back to her, Blake had it raised close to her face. Her eyes were deep with emotion, but mostly colored with helpless sorrow.

"Did I cause it?" Blake asked, her voice even but heartbreakingly sincere.

Yang only shook her head. Words did not feel safe.

Blake shut her eyes, bringing her forehead into her prosthetic hand, and Yang became aware that her aura was probably not providing the reassurance that she deserved. She thought of offering her other hand, but she didn't want to smear her with blood either.

A wind kicked up a rustle of leaves from the forest floor. Blake appeared to become aware of the time, and she gently tugged on Yang's arm.

"Here," Blake said, guiding her towards a small clearing near the copse. "Sit down."

Yang wondered now what was going through Blake's mind. She wasn't the type to suggest anything out of the blue, so it did arouse her curiosity; she followed her direction and had a seat on the forest floor. Yang crossed her legs beneath herself, and she heard Blake's weapon tip over into the thick bed of fallen leaves besides them. The next moment, she felt a bodily warmth as Blake sat on the ground behind her and leaned up against her back.

Immediately she was alert as the gesture forced her to sit up straight. Their backs were nearly flush, and the back of her head gently met Blake's as they were adjusting their posture. After a moment of getting comfortable, Yang placed her hands on her knees and glanced around, waiting for something to happen. She looked off to her side, trying vainly to see what Blake might be doing without turning her head.

"Close your eyes," Blake instructed, no doubt sensing the unrest, and Yang took a breath and did as was suggested. The rustle of the leaves in the mild breeze was the overriding sound in the air growing in strength and then fading like Remnant itself heaved a sigh; sparse birdcalls echoed further off in the distance. Small leaves tumbled around on the floor, sometimes up onto her legs or hands. Gradually these elements of the environment began to grow more distant as the contact with her partner began to become the focal point in her awareness.

Relying only on her sense of hearing and touch, it was as though she could feel what Blake was feeling. Floating in the darkness of her thoughts, the preeminent presence within her mind was that of Blake. Her breath, her warmth, her pulse—over the minutes their respiration seemed to synchronize on its own as Yang felt every breath and subconsciously matched it. The beat of her dark-haired partner's heart drew her focus as it drummed against the surface of her skin, through the layers of her jacket, echoing in her own chest as though it was her own.

Yang was vaguely aware of the way her head was rested against Blake's, a little higher up due to their height difference. Her attention drifted outwards only as she felt the swat of one of Blake's ears as it twitched.

A sign of contentment. A warm memory pulled her lips upward. Again she wondered what was going through the other huntress' mind. Did she really want this, though? Was she ready to deal with the volatility, or was she one more episode away from leaving her again?

"How do you feel?" Blake asked, breaking up Yang's anxiety.

"I feel… better. More awake, actually." That was strange, considering her fatigue. But the way she was more attuned to the little things around her—and within herself—had a rousing effect on the mind.

Yang heard a sigh out of Blake and felt her body leaning further against her back, this time almost as if she was trying to make herself more comfortable.

"We should keep moving," Blake murmured, sounding as though she was halfway into falling asleep.

"Yeah," Yang said, scrunching her face at the lack of conviction behind her response. They passed a moment in silence before she took a small breath, finding a thought that she had to put out. "I'm sorry I made you come after me. I should've been…" She drifted, losing the thought to doubt.

"It's okay," Blake cut in, maybe getting enough to complete the idea on her own. "I can't imagine what you're dealing with. But whenever you start to feel that way, like you're losing yourself, just… talk to me."

Yang felt a little shuffling from behind her, and finally she was compelled to look over her shoulder. She found that Blake was doing the same, looking towards her, and again their eyes met.

"The Yang I know is always there for everyone." She paused, but her mouth hung open like she had words that she was reconsidering. "She was there for me," Blake continued, "Even when I didn't deserve it. So I'll be there for her. And I'll be here for you."

* * *

The next several minutes of walking did some good towards clearing Yang's head. The malaise lingered but Blake's presence helped her anchor herself to the moment. She walked ahead, leading the way back to the stream. She would occasionally glance back towards her, and each time her amber eyes were searching for a change in her demeanor. Yang did her best to meet her with a smile, each one a little brighter than the one before. Perhaps by repetition she could eventually make it sincere.

Showing it was the issue. She was already glad enough to have Blake nearby, but it felt as though her actions and attitude weren't agreeing with that position. If she did, it felt awkward, like she wasn't expressing it strongly enough. For a year and change she agonized over this missing presence in her life, and now she didn't know how to deal with her sudden return. It was like her subconscious was preventing her from fully accepting the proof of her senses, a reluctance to get too attached in the event that she departs again.

Yang had no idea how far she had bolted from the stream, but at least the trail was clear; even she could have followed the path of felled branches and the deep groove carved through the bed of dead leaves back to their origin. In her haste to follow, Blake had left her coat where it fell back at the stream. Occasionally she caught a glimpse of a shiver coming off the dark-haired woman, and each time Yang felt worse about it. The faunus was partial to warmth as it was and she was very much out of her element in this mid-autumn chill, let alone the way she splashed herself with cold water before being forced to chase her through the wood.

Quietly, Yang undid the buckle on her collar. Blake looked back at her when she pulled the zipper of her armored jacket open, her eyes questioning. They had their answer as Yang removed and draped the riding jacket over the faunus' bare shoulders.

"Th-thanks," Blake whispered, trying but failing to hide her embarrassment. Yang a chuckle at her partner's blush and offered a squeeze through her jacket's padded shoulder.

When they reached the stream's perimeter, Yang had expected to find it as they had earlier, but Blake's posture going alert made it clear that that wasn't going to be the case.

They came to the edge of the clearing. Yang measured her footfalls, trying to match her partner's stealthy gait. She crouched slightly behind Blake when they came up to the edge of the clearing. Up ahead, a lone Beowolf sniffed around the bank, nosing at the heap of Blake's coat and the remains of the blasted tree near it.

"Oh. It's just one?"

"Yeah."

It would be trivial to take out a single Beowolf between the two of them. Either it was wandering, scouting, or it had picked up on the altercation earlier and been led there.

"Let me take care of this one," Blake murmured as she slipped out of the borrowed jacket.

"Careful," said Yang as she took her jacket back from Blake, the two silently agreeing on the next step. Blake took Gambol Shroud from its clasp and Yang simply heard her vanish off to her side. Yang continued to observe the Beowolf.

So far it seemed completely unawares as to their presence. Yang stayed behind the small maple they'd crouched behind while Blake was, to the best of her knowledge, about halfway around the clearing. When Blake didn't want to be found, it really was nearly impossible to do so. Knowing that, it was surprising that she was able to detect her the previous night. She must have been off her game…

A strangled yelp drew Yang's attention back to the clearing, just in time to watch Blake land at the end of a long arc with the ribbon of her weapon in hand. Said weapon was currently embedded blade-first in the side of the Beowolf's throat, and a sharp tug later it tore out what would have been its jugular if it were a creature of flesh and bone. With a sigh of the wind its remains scattered into the trees. Blake's weapon hit her hand with a smack and was stowed with practiced ease. She looked around, and when the faunus was satisfied she glanced in Yang's direction and tilted her head.

"Nicely done," Yang offered with a short nod as she emerged.

"It was just a Beowolf," Blake replied with a shrug, still finding a smile to offer. "It doesn't top the way you held off all those Grimm in the mine."

"Yeah, but I couldn't have snuck up on it like you did. At least his pals won't come looking for us now." A pack of Beowolves was only ever a howl away. Dealing with the loners and scouts quietly was the best way to go.

"Besides," Yang continued dismissively, "it wasn't that big of a deal anyway."

Blake walked past and didn't respond with words immediately, but the doubtful look in her golden eyes told Yang that her partner saw right through her false modesty.

"Listen," Blake said, her attention turned towards the woods, "You don't have to push yourself to your breaking point. You have nothing to prove to me. I trust you with my life more than I trust you with your own."

Yang stared after Blake, her mouth half open and unsure whether to issue a retort or a thanks. While stopped to put her coat on, Blake shot a look back at Yang, and there upon her lips was a small smirk. Yang responded by looking eminently unimpressed, but on the inside she felt an ember of nostalgia stoking a stronger flame.

Yang walked up to Blake's side. She looked distracted, and she noticed how her ears were fanned out as though straining. She held her breath, thinking it might be a distraction to Blake's concentration. A few moments later, she had to refresh the air in her lungs, and she looked towards her partner with a little exasperation.

"Everything okay?" Yang asked after she noticed the distracted look on Blake's face. In turn, Blake gave Yang a look that might be concerned, if it was certain.

"I hope so," Blake said, her eyes darting between Yang and the woods beyond the stream. "Let's keep moving. I'll let you know if I pick up on anything."

Yang nodded and Blake moved on ahead. She took a few steps to follow and paused; the small tree she had blasted was near her side. Yang gave it a long look, and her right hand flexed repeatedly as though in recollection of that incident. She took a breath and sighed.

"Come on, Yang!" her partner called from further ahead. She glanced, then looked back to the splintered trunk and her hand. She clenched it into a fist, renewing her determination, and then jogged along to catch up to Blake.

* * *

 **This update is a bit late and my sincerest apologies for that. I had a relapse as far as my illness went, blasted stubborn cold, and I was just completely out of it on my normal editing days. I did say I was wrapping this soon but I seem to have found some more story lying around. I hope this doesn't harm the pacing or the structure of the story. If you have any thoughts, I am always receptive to reviews and messages. I appreciate the support and I hope you will look forward to the next installment!**


	9. Unconditional

**IX**

 **Unconditional**

* * *

Yang stared into the translucence of her scroll. Ruby's unresponsiveness began to chisel at her calm exterior. Despite their nearing proximity to Mistral, signal integrity remained poor, but it wasn't completely absent. They were definitely on the outside edge of the kingdom's local comms network.

Whatever unease Yang felt, it strangely wasn't for the predicament that she and Blake were in.

At least here, she and Blake had the agency to handle whatever predicament may arise. If something was underway back in Mistral...

Odds were that Ruby was safe among the rest of their teammates. And Qrow, and even Ozpin. But malign thoughts dwelt at the back of Yang's mind; horrors that they were only now discovering filled the world and ventured closer to home than they could have ever anticipated, and that was on top of the dangers they were already aware of. It wasn't that she didn't trust the others to keep Ruby safe if it came down to it, but for so long had the duty been hers and hers alone that anything less than her constant vigilance felt like a dereliction.

"Anything yet?"

Yang returned to the moment. Blake's eyes flashed from over her shoulder, a gleam of gold in a tawny wood. Yang was certain that her partner had noticed something about her tenuous emotional state, but Blake wasn't showing it. Yang stowed her scroll.

"Nothing." Yang sighed and rolled her eyes. "Are there no relays out this way?"

"It doesn't look like there's a lot of anything out here." Blake stopped and set a hand on a nearby tree, her fingertips digging at the grooves of the bark. Yang cocked her head, wondering if there was a significance to the way Blake interacted with the environment.

"I guess not. There don't seem to be a lot of Grimm out here." Yang tossed her gaze about the remoteness. "Not a lotta people either."

"Maybe that's why," said Blake, shrugging. "This close, you might as well live in the city and avoid the dangers of being outside the defenses."

Blake was still distracted. Her vigilance only grew since the time they regrouped. Yang watched her warily but kept her thoughts to herself for the time. Instead of needling her partner, Yang settled on observation; if Blake had something to report, she would.

Mistral was a hiker's dream, or nightmare. A tumbled landscape of mountains and valleys, cliffs and ravines, the terrain became increasingly difficult to navigate as the two junior huntresses neared the capital. The rich bed of soil fed by undisturbed forest detritus thinned out and became something rocky and less capable of rooting thick foliage. The stream that sated their thirst did a fine job of leading them in the most direct path to the city before it took a dive into a ravine and could no longer follow it. At an impasse, they followed the broken earth towards the north along the cliffside. Eventually, that path led them down another incline that fed into another wood, far enough into the valley that the morning sunlight had yet to surmount the surrounding peaks. What would otherwise be a tranquil forest ablaze with the colors of fall instead became an ominous thicket, shrouded with a fog that seemed to wash the warmth out of the reds and the golds.

After nearly half an hour they were in this fog enshrouded valley. Yang checked the map on her scroll to try and determine their location, and as close as Mistral seemed it offered no respite, as the terrain made it so they were essentially no closer than before.

They continued along, relying on Blake's senses. Despite the intense focus on things Yang could not perceive, Blake continued to frequently take measure of her temperament. On cue, Yang offered up some sign of reassurance. A smile, a wave, some confident tic she had perfected through repetition. It was a simple act, brushing off her own feelings. For the sake of normalcy, and because explaining would take too long, it was practically reflexive.

Providing a stable home for her baby sister didn't afford Yang a lot of time to dwell on her own heartaches. And although Yang knew she always had Ruby, there were things she simply couldn't discuss with her. Ruby needed someone brave and confident to stand up for her, and she couldn't go breaking down and forcing her to doubt her role model. Yang knew that firsthand; she knew what it was like to find the path in the dark, alone.

There were some things she wore on her sleeve. Vulnerability wasn't one of them.

But Blake was the exception. She was _always_ the exception. Perhaps it was because Blake tolerated her without complaint, or even _gravitated_ towards her. Maybe it was because Blake made _her_ feel like the exception. Blake was not amicable towards anyone in the beginning, and she had her pick of partners due to her stealthy nature—and she had picked her. Yang Xiao Long, loud and radiant and eminently un-Blakelike.

The more Yang grew to know Blake, the more obvious it was that her choice was deliberate. What was never clear was _why_. Even after owning up to it, Blake still hadn't revealed the why.

Being wanted was a novel feeling, and _addictive_.

She felt a little guilt for the elevated level of concern that Blake showed her. She didn't want pity, and she didn't want others to waste it on her. It was why she hid her anguish and kept it close to her chest like a losing hand of cards. Eventually, she knew, someone would call her on her bluff—and that someone was bound to be Blake Belladonna. She knew, because Blake also played that game.

Yang's thoughts eventually brought her back to her recent break. Blake had every reason to doubt, but still she showed. The memory of her warmth sent a calming wave through Yang. Her right hand came to rest above her heart, metallic fingers mindlessly curling into the collar of her jacket. Suspended curiosity, as well as a lack of care for the growing tension, prompted Yang to break the silence.

"Back there," she said, "where you had me sit down. That was a meditation, wasn't it?"

"Something like that," Blake said, halting and throwing a glance back at Yang.

"I thought it was. It felt like it."

"I suppose it could be." Blake halted and faced Yang, running her hand through her ebony hair. "I suppose that's exactly what it was."

"Where did you come up with the idea?" Yang asked, her arms folded loosely.

"It's a trust exercise I learned when I was young," Blake said, smiling wistfully. "My parents taught it." Blake approached Yang. Slowly she began to walk around her. "You sit quietly near to the other person so that you can't see them," she said as she stopped, standing back to back with Yang. "—but you can feel their presence. It's apparently something that couples do to strengthen bonds, reduce anxiety." Blake tipped her head and sighed. "I... didn't know how to reach you. Words seemed worthless. Then I thought about that, and I thought I'd share it with you."

Yang waxed thoughtful for a moment, but it would not last; she could not suppress the smirk that played upon her face. Her brows went askew.

"Couples, huh?" Yang said, utterly scholastic with her observation.

Blake's features faulted, her error realized, and in a heartbeat she went from sentimental to stricken. Normally cool golden eyes widened with an alarm rarely seen, and Yang's smirk grew into a grin.

"O-or partners," Blake said, quietly. "Combat partners!" she added quickly. Blake's indecision did not convince, and it seemed she knew because she avoided Yang's eyes. The pressure that had been building in Yang's belly could no longer be contained, and she put a hand on her chest and laughed. Her mirth echoed in the shrouded wood for what seemed like a solid minute before she finally began to quiet down; when Yang came down from her high she beheld Blake with ears flattened and face colored in rose red. Yang felt the tiniest mote of remorse for her embarrassed partner.

"Aw, come on, Blake," Yang said as she stifled a remaining cackle. "Don't be mad. I'm actually really flattered!"

Blake shot her a scornful glance in spite of the ember glow of her cheeks. Her stare hardened for a few seconds, then she whipped herself around with a huff. The grin faded from Yang's face, replaced with a relaxed smile. She stared at her partner's back as she grew farther by steps, and Yang hustled to catch up.

"Hey!" Yang said as she closed the distance. "Are you alright?" she asked, evening her breaths out after jogging the short distance. "You're acting a little short."

Blake didn't dignify Yang with a glance. From where she stood, Yang could still see a bit of color still tinting Blake's cheeks, but the latter kept her eyes straight ahead.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blake said through set teeth. For a few suspenseful seconds, the only sound between them was the rhythmic crunching of the dead leaves and twigs underfoot. Blake's footsteps were more measured and quiet than Yang's careless stomping. The remains of Yang's mirth fell to the forest floor and she reached out for Blake.

"Really, Blake," Yang said, eyes dark. "Are you okay?

Blake stopped and swiveled her head. Their eyes locked for a moment, and then Blake had her gaze away and scanning the area for some unseen mark.

"Do you hear that?"

Yang felt her stomach drop. Unknowing of what Blake was referring to, she closed her eyes and tried to focus on her other senses. She attuned with the invisible elements of their environment as if in meditation. A slight breeze among boughs of dying leaves, the ghosts of summer rolling about the forest floor…

"No birds," Yang concluded. The utter silence was deafening when she noticed it. Blake gave her a severe look and nodded in the affirmative.

"It could be a coincidence," Blake said, keeping her voice low, "or it could be that there are Grimm nearby."

That explained Blake's gradual but strong shift towards caution. That also explained Blake being cross over her guffawing in the field, although Yang always did wonder why Grimm aren't repelled by nice feelings the way they are attracted by bad ones. Seemed like an unfair double standard...

"Remember Mountain Glenn?" Blake asked while she continued to search the distance.

"Yeah." Yang ran a hand through her hair, finding it hopelessly tangled. "Good times," she said sarcastically.

"There were Grimm that lingered on the perimeter of Vale. Close, but never near enough to trigger the city's defenses. Prof—" Blake halted and reconsidered her words. "— _Doctor_ Oobleck mentioned to Ruby that they were prodding for weaknesses and waiting."

"So it's probably the same here, and we're on Grimm turf."

"That is the assumption we should be going with."

Yang put her hands on her hips and thought. Mistral practically loomed over them now, but they were at a much lower elevation and the fog made it hard to see more than ten feet in front of them. Again, Blake was a valuable member to their tandem, and it was here that Yang was again thankful to have a partner like her.

"It sounds like there is another ravine between us and the city," Blake said while motioning towards the northeast. "We could find it and follow it around… and hope that yet another one doesn't wait for us." It sounded like Blake dreaded the thought of backtracking as much as Yang did.

"What kind of Grimm should we expect here?" Yang wasn't totally ignorant of her bestiary, but she was mostly familiar with the Grimm of Sanus and the areas surrounding Vale, not Anima.

"The kind that we don't want to find," Blake said without irony. "Especially when we're this run down." Blake unsheathed Gambol and popped the magazine, counting her rounds. "You're low on ammo, aren't you?"

Yang pursed her lips ruefully, but she nodded. "Out of shells, running low enough on Dust that I'm holding back." And she never held back.

Blake made a sound in her throat like that was the answer that she expected, and after a short nod she looked off towards the direction their walk was taking them.

"I'll try to make sure that we don't get ambushed," she said, "but even if I do pick up a warning we'll only have a few seconds."

Blake took half a step forward and stopped; she glanced back at Yang. Her coat's high collar obscured most of her face, but there was a concerned gleam reflecting from her golden irses.

"Yang," she said, her voice loud in the still, "you don't have anything to prove. Okay?"

"Blake, I—" Yang measured her words and took a breath. "I'll watch myself," she said slowly. "But, I'll do what I have to."

Perhaps she thought that was the best she was getting out of Yang. It didn't seem to satisfy Blake's concern, but she nodded and continued in the direction they'd agreed on. Yang rolled her shoulders and quieted, putting herself on alert as she fell in behind her partner.

* * *

Yang's skin was dewy with the residue of the morning brume. She put away her scroll after repeating her vain vigil for a response from her sister. The time read 08:01, and in spite of how close it seemed Mistral never felt so far away. They'd chosen a path that brought them close to a cliff's edge, and it seemed to follow in a wide trail around the dale from which the city rose. If they could make out what waited at the bottom of the canyon, Yang would have half jokingly suggested they try to make do with a landing strategy. But the fog was still too thick to see through, and she knew Blake would never agree to taking the jump into an unknown destination. Instead, they wandered a ways away from the cliff and continued north.

Yang's best recollection was that she had left the city through one of the southern gates. The moon hung high in the east when Blake found her much earlier in the morning, so they were possibly approaching the region from which they were lost to the world.

A twitch from her partner up ahead pulled Yang from her thoughts. Blake's spine straightened out and her head swiveled, scanning the fog banks. Her ears flattened back, and for the first time since they'd spoken Blake took a step back.

"Blake?"

"Incoming!" Gambol Shroud practically leapt to her hand.

Yang's eyes darted to the ground. Was it shaking? A steady gallop, at first imperceptible, grew stronger, and reflexively Yang engaged Ember Celica. She had no ammo, but at least the gauntlet could put steel behind her punches and a layer of defense on her flesh. Her bruised knuckles throbbed but she put the pain out of mind.

A shadow of hunched muscle and bone crashed through the trees and out of the gloom. Red eyes gleamed from a skull-like facade and a fanged maw announced murderous intent as it immediately attacked Blake.

A broad hand attached to a tree-trunk arm smote the forest floor like thunder. Blake slid to a halt off to Yang's side, a shadow clone having eaten the deadly blow. The lines of Blake's face were determined, but there was real worry in her reflective eyes. Blake glanced over to meet Yang's gaze.

"Beringel," Yang said, refocusing. She remembered the list of 'Grimm to punch' she had written up in her more juvenile days.

"A big one." Blake edged back as the creature seemed to realize that it hadn't turned her into paste. "Yang, we have to—"

"Kill it!"

Blake shot her a glare, disapproval plain. "We're in no shape to!"

The Beringel reared up to its full height and roared. It beat its armored chest, and the force of it cleared the fog around its sinewy form. It settled with a pound and stalked forward. The monster resembled a great ape, but it was twice, maybe three times as large. Few had been observed due to their limited range, but their humanlike anatomy made them one of the more dangerously versatile Grimm one could encounter. Presently, it tore up the ground with its knuckles and prepared to charge.

"I can't outrun it," Yang said. "You can. If things go south, promise me you'll—"

Blake shook her head furiously. "We are _not_ thinking like that." She turned towards the oncoming Beringel and split her weapon into its constituent parts.

Yang smirked and kicked off her lead foot. She barreled towards the Beringel, and the size difference between them couldn't have been more comical. Yang was barely as large as one of the monster's arms.

She didn't take her eyes off the creature as they came within striking distance. Because of its greater reach, the Beringel had to be the one to make the first move. Its right paw came up over its head, and Yang broke left. The ground veritably exploded on her right side, but she was now beneath the creature's arm with its exposed flank and practically all day to play.

She dug into its side with a quick combo of punches; jab, hook, straight, each hit a massive beat on a kick drum. Yang ducked the retaliatory sweep from the hulk, a huge forearm darkening the sky. Wide lavender eyes tracked Blake as she ran on the outside of the fight, firing shots from her pistol as Yang held the monster's attention. It helped to divide the Beringel's aggression and gave Yang more time to apply damage. When Yang had its full attention, Blake dove in with her blades and left an angry line or three with quick slices delivered in circular patterns. But its hide was tough, much tougher than the King Taijitu. At times it sounded like Blake was striking rocks.

Their arena wasn't generous with space. The trees were numerous and tall, but they bore small trunks, which made them ideal victims to the Beringel's huge, unrestrained blows. They also made it difficult for Blake and herself to maneuver evasively, but the unimpeded Beringel just smashed through the offending trees to get at them.

As canopies crashed around her and the ground became increasingly difficult to dance around on, Yang felt a cold sweat sticking to her clothes. Off and again she shuffled within the Beringel's arms, each time delivering another series of rattling hits, but she found herself forced out by the threat of a grapple. Yang remained aware that she could only weather a couple of hits from this creature, and its hot breath bore down on her and reminded her of the constant danger. She took her shots whenever its sides were exposed, and she felt the increasing fury with each swing and slam that came for her.

Her eyes narrowed and her smile widened as the danger grew. The angrier the Beringel grew, the more in control of the fight she was.

In flashes she caught Blake's eyes, and in those moments they tried to communicate wordlessly. A flicker here, a nod there, and Blake continued to take potshots from the Beringel's blindside. From a weapon with as small a caliber as Gambol, Yang wasn't sure if it was doing any good.

Yang stutter stepped back out of the range of a broad-handed slap. Wind rushd and debris kicked up; her back straightened and she swapped her stance as she anticipated a blow from the opposite hand.

It came from the fog and dirt cloud, as expected, and Yang rolled. She struck out with a overhand punch as she came around, and Ember Celica rang loudly as it struck the Beringel's forearm square on the bone. She thought she felt a give, and a roar shook the area; the Beringel charged its mass into Yang unexpectedly.

Yang barely had the time to gasp before she was bowled over hard. She vaguely registered the sound of Blake crying out as she rolled forward, thumping loud in her ears as the Beringel attempted to pound her into the ground. Yang whirled to her feet, behind the Beringel after tumbling out between its legs. Seeing her next move, Yang dashed up the creature's sloped back and swung her shin into the side of its head at the apex. A loud crack mixed with bellowing as she followed through, forcing the Beringel's head to give way to her kick. Yang sprang off its shoulder and had another one in the chamber when things went wrong.

A crushing force came down around her following leg as she spun in the air. The next moment she was hurtling through the air. The world blurred into a smear of autumn watercolors, grays and blues. All she knew for certain was that she needed to project her aura, and her senses flashed white as branch and bough broke against her body. Everything came to a jarring halt, and her ears rang.

When the world stopped spinning, pain radiated from all of Yang's extremities. A flame swirled deep in her chest, stoked and angry, but her aura pulsed weakly. She was vaguely aware of the shaking ground and primal bellowing coming from an indeterminable direction. Yang gathered her broken senses and tried to force herself to her feet, but her body rebelled against her commands. She felt no serious injury, but Yang was aware of the severity of her position.

"Blake," she said, coughing. She forced her eyes open, and though her face fought back with a wince she was able to observe the ongoing battle. The Beringel hadn't come to finish her off because Blake had cut in.

* * *

"Yang!"

Blake watched helplessly as her partner flew in a near flat arc, breaking several trees in half along her path before finally coming to rest in the fog beyond her vision. Anger and panic filled Blake's heart as she seized her weapons in a white knuckle grip. She exhaled, Gambol snapping into its swordform as she pushed her emotions beneath the surface of her thoughts.

Blake flashed forward, covering the ground between herself and the Beringel faster than she thought possible. The creature failed to register her approach, and Blake took the opportunity with intent to kill.

Like Yang, she ran up the slope of the Beringel's back and raked her blades along the path she took. They let out a satisfying rip as she yanked them through, and she kicked off as the Beringel tried to seize Blake like it did her partner. It found only the very end of Blake's coattail, and Gambol whirled in after Blake's departure to gash the creature for its effort. The Beringel spun and flailed its hands at the annoyance, trying to seize on something, but Gambol was back in Blake's hand by the time she landed. A couplet of shots pinged off the Beringel's bony face, and it roared in some Grimmish oath as Blake led the creature further away from Yang's position.

Her eyes flashed to the broken line of trees Yang left. Blake battled every urge to fly to the spot to make sure that she was okay… or alive.

That thought she fought down as well; _of course she's alive._

Blake didn't entertain the alternative.

The Beringel charged. Blake thought quickly and dashed up the nearest tree. A large hand connected with the trunk and snapped it like cheap lumber, and Blake leapt off a shadow copy in a way that carried her over the Beringel's head. Her blades flashed like twin fangs and Blake swept them down the Beringel's back again as she descended. She ducked under a retaliatory swipe and spun away, black edges launching threatening crescents, her ribbon the only indicator that she had been in that spot to begin with.

Still there was no stirring from Yang's position. A cold fury took Blake as she lunged forward and let a shadow copy eat the incoming swipe from the Beringel. She dove inside the monster's reach. Her short blades allowed her to play havoc while she was within its range, and several strokes left angry red marks along the creature's black flesh. Its armor was heavy, however, and its hide was thick enough without it. Grunt and roar and slamming limb forced Blake to find a retreat, and she leveled Gambol's barrel and pulled the trigger.

The action clicked uselessly. The slide locked in its uncharged position. Blake's eyes went wide, her focus falling on her spent weapon, and the pause cost her. She had only enough time to throw her aura up against the remains of a felled tree flying through the air. It made impact with Blake and with a cry she was thrown off her feet.

Blake squeezed her hands around her weapons to avoid losing them, but her senses blurred around the edges. Her consciousness guttered like a strangled flame and she willed herself to stay aware as she hurtled. Blake gauged her momentum in order to try and stick a landing.

Her body then hit something—something hard yet gentle and _warm_. Blake coughed and winced her eyes open, and next to her face was Yang's as she glared ahead at the stalking Beringel.

"You okay?" she asked, her lilac eyes smoldering but calm.

"Yeah," Blake said, letting her feet touch the ground. Her first step went unsteady, and Yang braced to catch her. But there was no need, and Blake looked at their approaching antagonist.

She grimaced, looking at Yang as though for a hint. The rushing of wind was vague in her head as it throbbed. It appeared that her partner avoided any severe injury, but Yang was looking much like she felt. Her aura had to be low.

Yang prepared to kick off again when Blake reached out and caught her shoulder.

"Wait!"

A severe look followed Blake's words, and Yang, impatient, stared.

"The ravine," Blake said, her ears fanning in the direction of the howling air.

Revelation washed over Yang's face, a certain peace as a direction became clear, and she nodded. "I'll bait it," she said, and when Blake released her Yang pushed off her lead foot for one last dance with the Beringel.

Blake watched the opening exchange with hesitation in her chest. She did the hardest thing she'd had to do all day and tore her eyes away from Yang and her monstrous opponent. The forest blurred around her as her feet flew, and her faith that Yang would hold out was all she had to keep her focused.

* * *

Yang devoted all her available energies to her senses. Any mistake here would prove fatal, she thought. Every ache and pain now licked about her heart like wreaths of flame, and the temptation was strong to go for a decisive blow.

In younger times, she wouldn't have hesitated. She would have ignited her body like a solar prominary. She would have flurried the Beringel into a fine mist with such stellar fury as no one had witnessed before. Yang would have walked away from the smoldering crater into the awestruck gazes of her teammates, grinning smugly as her aura whisked away.

But that was another life. Yang had already counted one use of her semblance that day, and she had the opportunity to recover afterward. Even now if she managed to strike the Beringel square in its body mass, Yang wasn't sure that it would be enough to kill it. Even if she did, they were still far from home; she would be a liability. Her aura would be spent, and what if they came across another of the fiends?

No. She let that little flame continue to tickle at her heart and complement its thunderous beat.

Foliage went up as Yang skipped over a fallen tree trunk. The Beringel moved with deceptive quickness for its size, and with the power it brought to bear it almost seemed unfair to Yang that a single Grimm should have so many advantages. It was fortunate that they were usually solitary, though Yang couldn't help but entertain the horror of a colony of Beringel somewhere out in the godsforsaken wilds. It was either her fatigue or the skull rattling blow she'd sustained that made her grin stupidly at the idea.

Newly dead trees littered the forest floor like a calamity had swept through and torn the wood down. It resembled more a timberyard than a forest now, and it made the footing treacherous. She could use that to her advantage. One of her common tactics was to knock the foe off its feet and hit it with a devastating haymaker, but the Beringel was square enough to the ground that such a feat would have been nearly impossible. Even if Yang did manage it, the advantage would be so brief that it'd be a waste of time and energy.

But that was without all the tripping points now available.

Stepping back out of the Beringel's range, Yang kicked her heel to roll a fallen tree into the creature's path. Somehow, its forelimbs tangled in the broken tree and it fell on its chest with a choked snarl. Yang grinned and took the opportunity, delivering a savage front kick into the Beringel's exposed face.

The impact shook Yang to her core and she thought she saw a tooth fly, but she didn't stick around to meet the Grimm's wrath. She felt its roar behind her like the heat of a flame, and she sprinted off towards the ravine. Yang figured that thirty seconds was enough of a head start for Blake to prepare, and she bounded along while dodging obstacles with all the speed that she could manage.

The trees became more and more sparse until Yang could see the edge of the cliff ahead. Mistral loomed beyond the fog like a lone mountain, and behind was the thunderous gallop of the Beringel. Despite the speed with which Yang was running, the sound of trees snapping like twigs grew ever closer behind her. Yang lowered her head and pushed harder in spite of the burning numbness in her thighs and calves.

Somewhere between the wild drumming of her heart and the crashing at her back, Yang felt the rumble of her scroll in her jacket pocket. Her eyes darted, but she refocused. Ahead, Blake bolted across a gap in the treeline, her ribbon trailing behind her and slack enough that it settled into the ground.

Blake was ready. There was no doubt in Yang's mind that Blake knew that they were coming. Her incredible senses made all this possible.

With barely a word they'd set their plan. Now Yang simply needed to play her part to completion and they'd be walking away.

Adjusting her path, Yang took a few leaping steps before making gravity surrender its hold on her. Airborne, she twisted as the shroud on her prosthetic released her hidden cannon.

The Beringel was practically in her face. It was one step from being within reach of her, and it surprised her since this was the only way she dared to look back in its direction. The Beringel's hands flailed just clear of her feet as Yang went horizontal, and with her right arm leveled at the creature's face she lined up a shot.

A flare of fire Dust whistled from her arm cannon and exploded in the Beringel's face. Smoke and flames danced from its visage, and the creature lost its balance and barrelled blindly.

The recoil sent Yang hard to the ground. Her vision flashed. The impact forced a strangled sound from her throat as air escaped her lungs, and she tumbled along the rocky ground. Her metallic fingers dug into the stone and loose earth as she slid, trying to slow her careening. A _snap_ followed and Yang watched the line of Blake's ribbon pass over her head as she skidded past the point of no return.

The Beringel, its mass driving it forward, shook its unseeing face angrily as its limbs tangled in Blake's line. Its momentum betrayed it, and it lurched forward. The seismic force with which it hit the ground shook dust from the cliff face itself.

Yang's feet went over the ledge. She clawed deeply into whatever handhold was available to her, and her movement halted violently as her body flailed over the cliff. Close behind her, the Beringel's grunts came in rapid sputters as it tried to regain its footing, but its enormous body tumbled just clear of Yang's head, over the precipice. The sky was blacked out for what seemed like forever. When the light returned, Yang found herself alone at the cliff's edge.

The Beringel's roar lingered in the air long after the flailing shadow disappeared in the brume. As violently as it had emerged the Beringel vanished, and the thud of a body dashing against the rocks smothered the sound of its rage permanently.

* * *

Blake recovered herself, thrown by the weight of the Beringel as it tripped over her line. Realizing that Yang's aura had broken, she practically threw herself towards the cliff. Gambol clattered to the ground behind her as she stopped short of the precipice. She shot a hand out to Yang as the trade winds Mistral was famous for ripped at her hair.

"Yang!" she cried, her eyes filled with relief. Yang was far from safe, however. She dangled an unknown hundreds of feet above sea level, her body buffeted by a wild wind. Her chest heaved as she worked to catch her breath. The cliff face was sheer and afforded little space for regaining one's self. In spite of all this, Yang gave Blake a cocksure grin, half delirious.

"Stop smiling and get up here," Blake said, her expression confused between a scowl and simper. Her ears flared towards the far side of the cliff. Blake's face relaxed as her concentration drifted.

A distant buzz. Distant, but rapidly approaching.

"Lancer," she said as though in a daze. "Yang! We need to go!"

Yang would have nodded if the angle afforded her the gesture. She grimaced as she tried to secure her handhold with what little she had to work with. Blake had a hand on Yang's right, which had dug deep furrows into the stone. The other Blake held out, but Yang seemed unsure of being able to get her left hand up to it. Her body kicked about in the strong winds and made any attempt at moving treacherous.

Blake became aware of other sounds behind her. She glanced back and saw a half dozen approaching shadows. Beowolves, she knew before even looking.

Surrounded. Blake grit her teeth and again offered her hand. Yang deepened her breath and threw her left hand towards Blake's. Their fingertips brushed. With the move, the ground beneath Blake's left hand gave way. Alarm shot through her like fire as the rock in Yang's grip began crumbling.

"No," she said weakly, and both her hands went to secure a grip on Yang's arm.

The earth broke further.

"Blake?"

Their eyes met. Blake's frightened gaze met Yang's and found it placid. A small smile played on Yang's lips, but the soft furrow of her brow made it look sad. Apologetic.

Blake drew a breath as dread hit her.

Yang exerted herself and made a small jump upwards, but her handhold broke and interrupted her. She reached out with both hands, and Blake groped desperately at air as Yang's arm slipped just clear of her. She watched Yang carry away and disappear into the Mistral fog.

An awful scream tore the air. The crack in her throat told Blake it was her own. Somewhere in there was Yang's name. The sound cut out, leaving only the wind's howl.

Ice water trickled into her veins.

Blake sat back on her heels in horrified silence as her mind struggled to process events. She stared, eyes unfocused but for the images that replayed before them. In the aftershock, her heart wrenched so hard that her breathing seized. A numbness envenomed her limbs.

"Yang," she said, heedless of how pathetic her voice was. She heard no impact, no sound of a body breaking against the rocks like with the Beringel. She clung to a hope that had been stolen right before her eyes. Ways of finding herself at fault inevitably began to work their way into the rapid fire recollection in her mind. She could have secured Yang with her ribbon. She could have used her semblance. She could have… she should have...

The Beowolves with their snarls brought her out of her shock. She looked behind herself, dazed. Blake realized she still had her life. Though she felt like it never mattered less, she took up Gambol Shroud and made ready to defend herself. Yang wouldn't have it any other way.

Six Beowolves; _prey_ , she thought contemptuously. They must have sensed her anguish pouring off of her like a cloud and relished, but Blake would not give them the satisfaction. She bared her teeth as the first of them lunged.

Blake did not get to satisfy her bloodlust. The first Beowolf exploded into mist mere feet from her. The other creatures took heed, and Blake became cognizant of a whistling sound as another round from the fog ruptured another of the Grimm.

The buzzing sound. The Lancer.

Blake glanced over her shoulder, and her mouth fell open.

A Lancer hovered just over the cliff's edge, but it was not the typical Grimm; this one shone with etheric light and gave off a frosty blue cast, and Weiss Schnee rode astride its back. Ruby Rose stood behind her, her bright red cloak flapping wildly in the wind and silver eyes afire; in her hands, Crescent Rose sought its next victim. And alongside the two of them...

"Blake!" Yang shouted between cupped hands, atop the wide abdomen of the summoned Queen Lancer. "Line!"

Blake stifled her emotions. Without a further doubt, Blake winged Gambol using all the strength she had left. Yang caught it with practiced ease, as she always ever had, and wound the ribbon around her wrist. Blake did the same, and she saw Yang give Weiss some kind of signal. Blake felt her feet lift off the ground as the Lancer ascended. A few more shots popped free from Crescent Rose above before the snarling ceased.

Blake was vaguely aware of the way she was being hauled up onto the summoned Grimm. When finally she was over the creature's body, she fell into a crushing embrace.

"I'm sorry I did that to you."

Warmth filled her as she realized who it was. Slowly Blake's hands came up and she returned the hug with as much force as she could muster, but words were out of the question for the moment.

"Good idea, by the way," Yang said. "You nailed it."

It was all Blake could do to keep herself from falling apart. Despair, anger, hope, and relief all hissed about like the smoke from a burnt out wildfire in her heart. In spite of her tattered emotions, Blake managed to feel one over all: relief. The sensation of Yang's arms about her anchored her to reality and helped her shove the the self-blame and horrible what-ifs out of her mind.

"That was a close one," Ruby said with a sigh. She sat back down and clung to her partner, who seemed a bit stiff-shouldered.

"I can't believe you two," said Weiss, her face incredulous as she shot a glare towards the back. "Literally a few days back together and you're already getting yourselves into trouble?"

"Yeah," said Yang, grinning from over Blake's shoulder. "Nice to see you too, Ice Queen."

Weiss rolled her eyes, but something resembling a smile passed over her face, a knowing gleam in her blue eyes. Blake wondered, but before she could ask Weiss went back to guiding her Lancer.

Before them, Mistral became clear as they burst out of the fog and bore towards the southern gates.

Ruby looked between Weiss and Blake and Yang. After a moment of gathering energy, she shot her hands up and grinned.

"Aw yeah!" she said cheerfully. "Bumblebee's back together!"

* * *

 **I'mma be real with you all, I considered ending this chapter when Yang fell. That would have been a delicious if unnecessarily cruel cliffhanger (or failed cliffhanger?), and the appearance of Iceflower wouldn't have been as dramatic a rescue if it was at the start of a chapter. We could also just say that Yang fell for Blake, huhuhu. What do you think? As always, reviews and feedback are always welcome!**


	10. Misshapen

**X**

 **Misshapen**

* * *

"Whoa."

No other words could Ruby Rose manage even as her eyes came close to popping out of her face. It was more or less the reaction Blake predicted as Yang described their encounter with the Beringel, along with the last several minutes of their time in the wild. She found idle amusement in how Yang did not exaggerate and yet still got doubtful looks and incredulous responses out of their other teammates.

"And with almost no supplies?" Weiss asked, her eyes glittering from over her shoulder. "I thought you were reckless before, Yang, but this…"

"We didn't have a choice, okay?" Yang let out a sigh as her metallic hand glanced her face, brushing unruly hair aside. "Besides," she said more gently, "I wasn't alone." Blake felt a small gesture at her back. She responded to it, if halfheartedly, and gave enough of a smile to ward off questions from Ruby and Weiss. Maybe it was her tacit agreement that was making them actually buy into Yang's story.

The day was as clear as it was beautiful. The sky remained cloudless and the sun gave warmth to the otherwise sharp autumn air. Its cold caress zipped by them as Weiss' Lancer quickly covered the distance between the cliffs and the city of Mistral, and Blake felt herself instinctively leaning towards the warmth of her partner. She kept her eyes elsewhere, using the sight of the great kingdom before them as an excuse to be uninvolved with the immediate conversation.

Even being familiar with it, the immensity of the city never failed to impress Blake. Its levels built atop each other in creatively unending configurations, from the small hovels carved out of the stone in the foot of the mountain to the buildings precariously built several stories up out of the cliff faces. Not a square foot of space was wasted, and the natural defense that all the cliffs and bluffs that made up the city's land were further fortified with watches and armaments.

Beneath them, the fog covered woods raced by and the rupture where she and Yang had been pulled into the earth became visible. The hole seemed a lot smaller from the air than when it opened up, but it was an abyssal pit against the reddish dirt of the footpath. A crew of officials and workers were already present, and the fresh hazard seemed to be cordoned off. Blake sighed in relief; at least no one else would be subject to what she and Yang had just been through.

Yang. Her hair whipped about in the wind, and it caught the sun and took on an aspect of fire. Her face was serene, but her eyes held a certain tumult. Thoughts belied her calm exterior, but Yang wasn't surrendering them freely. Her recounting of events omitted certain details, Blake noticed. Most of them pertained to the tension between Yang and herself.

And it was fine. She couldn't help but wonder if it was because Yang wanted to avoid scrutiny or if it was out of respect for Blake's privacy, but she appreciated that Yang didn't go into those things. But Blake was beginning to worry about the way she didn't elaborate on _why_ she was out beyond city limits in the small hours of the morning.

Blake herself hadn't uttered a word; she didn't trust herself to remain put together in the moment. She had been compartmentalizing, and her little box of emotions tottered on the brink of bursting. Besides that, she was pretty sure her throat was shot.

She tried not to dwell on the way Yang looked as she slipped away at the cliff. That sorry, saddened look, like she knew she wasn't coming back. It was purely good timing that saved them, and the more Blake thought about it the more lightheaded she felt.

For her part, Yang didn't seem upset about her close call. She kept a hand on Blake's back, and although the touch was comforting she was sure it was simply to keep them both stable on the creature that Weiss had conjured up. Blake tried not to attribute too much meaning to the gesture, even if it did feel… nice.

"So," Yang said, breaking the momentary still, "how did you guys manage to find us?"

"Why don't you ask her?" Weiss said, suppressed annoyance leaking into her voice. "Ruby's the one who dragged me out of bed in a panic."

All eyes turned to Ruby, who grinned pleasantly at the oncoming attention.

"I got your message," she said to Yang. "I tried to reply, but it kept failing. I got a little worried, and then I looked at the coordinates that you included and they were _way_ out there." Ruby sobered, but a corner of her lips turned upward as she looked off into the near invisible wings of the Lancer. "But then I got Weiss up to help me search, and we figured it out."

Ruby glanced towards her inattentive partner and back, and she cupped a hand to her face. "Don't listen to her," she said conspiratorially. "It was Weiss' idea to do it this way."

Blake could feel Weiss' eyes rolling even without even seeing her face. Whatever Weiss' sentiments, Blake could not be happier for the way or time they showed up, even if the sound of the approaching Lancer initially caused her to worry.

"Needless to say," Weiss said, "we flew around for a little while until we heard explosions." Weiss looked back. "Or trees breaking. Or just a lot of noise, really."

Blake glanced at Yang and found her beaming. She seemed lighthearted for someone who had just had multiple brushes with death in a single night. Unsure whether it was because of her own mood, or because of the gravity of everything they had just been through, Blake did not like it.

"Then your signal lit up and I tried to call you," Ruby added. "But you still didn't pick up!"

"Yeah," Yang said, that smirk that was hanging onto her face giving way to incredulity. "I was a little tied up when you called." Blake met Yang's glance and the latter's lips curled sincerely. "But I won't complain about your timing after that."

Weiss sighed again from the front. "I'm setting us down outside the kingdom. You can walk, right?"

"I'm missing an arm, Weiss, not a leg."

Weiss scoffed. Blake frowned and watched Yang out of the corner of her eye, taking stock of her. Yang perchance caught Blake staring, and for a tiny moment the mask slipped. The fingers against Blake's back twitched and pinched the fabric of her coat, and she felt a minute tug as Yang reasserted her grip.

* * *

The Lancer skimmed across the hills, dust and grass following its wake. The ground tore by until they came to a sudden halt at the foot of a knoll half a mile away from the southern gates, the creature bucking high to keep its passengers from flying off. Weiss allowed everyone to hop off before edging off the ethereal creature's back herself. She seemed to make eye contact with it, and some silent acknowledgement passed between them. The Lancer angled its head, as if in deference, and lost its solidity. Its body dissipated into glowing particles of light, and the starlets of dust joined the winds and disappeared amongst the light of day.

Ruby broke what was otherwise an awe inspiring moment with a prolonged groan as she stretched out. It must have been difficult for her to sit still for so long being the ball of energy that she was. Blake remembered the exhaustion from watching her bound about, but Ruby seemed to have mellowed a bit in their time apart.

"Are you guys hungry?" Weiss turned her eyes on Yang and Blake, her arms folded.

"Starving!"

"Famished."

Blake looked at Yang, finding a surprised expression that mirrored her own. Ruby giggled off somewhere to Weiss' side and walked ahead of the group.

"Come on," said Ruby as she clasped her hands behind her head. "I know a place."

The four of them proceeded to walk the rest of the way to the Mistrali gates. Blake felt cold, unusually so. Perhaps it was all the time she had spent in the tropics before arriving in Anima days prior, but she wasn't this bothered before. The dwindling adrenaline left her feeling spent and weak, and her throat hurt still. Blake closed her eyes and drew a slow breath. She let it fill her chest to capacity, and slowly she released it.

Yang trudged along beside her. Together they brought up the rear of the group. Ruby and Weiss walked a few paces ahead, talking. Blake flicked an ear as she listened passively to their conversation, which was really more Ruby talking at Weiss than any sort of discourse. Whether it was because Ruby switched subjects too rapidly or because Blake found her mind on other things, she couldn't recall the details moments after they had passed.

The Relic. Haven Academy. Salem. The soul of Ozpin now dwelling within the body of a boy. All things that were still largely a mystery to Blake. A mystery to all of them, really, but it seemed like she was behind on details everyone else was already aware of.

The world had gotten much larger and more complicated than Blake cared for. It was already difficult enough to navigate between the mutual hatreds of everyday people, between believing in the White Fang's core mission but not its methods. Even being a grounded realist acknowledging that the world could be a brutal and uncaring place, Blake was still unprepared for it to become darker than it already was.

Blake stole a glance at Yang. Her shoulders seemed to tense more the closer they got to the gates. Her gait seemed normal but there was the slightest stutter in her step, like she was favoring a strained muscle or a large bruise. Scratches and cuts littered her left arm from where she tumbled along the ground after her aura broke. Her chin sported a nice abrasion, not out of place with her nature as a fistfighter. Outside of a few minor injuries, Yang seemed well. But it was written on her face that she wasn't.

Blake opened her mouth, but she found the words died on her tongue before she could even draw breath. What was she even going to say? She had already laid it out in no uncertain terms that Yang could come at her with whatever was bothering her. That she could be relied on to listen, that she would help her carry her burden when it became too heavy.

But it seemed Yang was disinterested in any of that.

If Yang had not approached her at Beacon, Blake was not sure she would have done the same. She tried so hard to shut out the others, content to let the chips fall where they may, so afraid was she of making the wrong choice. That had happened once before.

But then Yang changed it all, like the disruptive presence that she was. In those days, Blake was the cool one, the one so confident in her direction that she couldn't be diverted. She had no desire to get close to anyone again, until the way Beacon had its teams set up changed all that. Forced to make a choice, Blake played the field. As fate would have it, Yang was there, raising havoc and calling attention to herself. After her impressive showing with the Ursai, Blake decided to show herself.

Blake knew Yang didn't need help with the Ursa. Maybe she just wanted to make a good impression.

She remembered when their eyes met. Confusion. Confidence. And then, acceptance.

But nothing could have prepared Blake for the world she had stepped into with Yang.

For so long Blake had been grateful that Yang was her partner and friend. It seemed like Blake had finally made a good decision. Her partner was selfless. She was kind. Even when Blake lost faith and hurt her team, Yang was always ready to welcome her back. Yang represented everything that Blake wished she could be—outgoing, confident, principled and brave. She had convinced herself that she was none of these things, but Yang was always too happy to change her mind about it.

She almost believed that she, too, could be more. Then Beacon fell, and that was the end of that dream.

The sound of a growing crowd brought Blake out of her reverie. An open air market greeted them at the space just beyond the gates, the main avenue that would lead them into the lower city. They weren't going there, but sharing the same thoroughfares meant that its less savory elements leaked into these spaces. The tension in Yang's body seemed to grow further, and Blake sulked close to her partner.

Even now she could feel a number of eyes on her like hot needles. Blake drew her arms around herself and tried to look nowhere but her feet. Her ears folded back in a vain attempt to disappear into her dark hair.

"So, we'll take the elevator in a couple of blocks and that should… Blake, are you okay?" Ruby met Blake's frown with a half-cocked smile.

"Yeah," Blake said, and she twisted her face at the sound of her voice. It sounded and felt like she was coming off of a bad cold, and she wished she had a hot cup of honeyed tea in hand for it.

Yang looked at her, then she glanced over to Ruby and Weiss.

"Guys… I think we should just head to the house." Yang looked like whatever reserve of energy she was going on had suddenly run dry. "We've been… _on_ , all night. We need to rest."

"No!" Blake said, bringing a hand up to her face as she cleared her throat. "We don't have to go right away."

"Blake…"

"Let's meet in the middle and pick something up?" Weiss tilted her head like the solution was plain to see.

"That sounds fine. Yang?" Ruby regarded her sister. Yang appeared as though she was about to put up an argument, and a quick glance in Blake's direction later she relented.

"Okay," said Yang. "Let's just keep going."

A ten minute walk took them through a torchlit stairwell to one of the elevators used to quickly traverse the various levels of Mistral. Ushered into the more upscale areas of the city, Blake felt the tension wash off of her. The space was greater and the crowd was thinner and less noisy. It also helped to feel like she wasn't being watched like an intruder.

A short walk took them to a rustic noodle shop, as unassuming in appearance as could be. It was a square stand, open air, with a row of stools and a counter for customers that preferred to sit and dine. Its a wooden sign reading _Wok About_ shone with a fresh coat of jolly green, red, and gold paints. A curtain provided some shade from the sun and wind, and delicious, savory smells concentrated in the air beneath the canvas. It was empty, currently, which was no surprise given the mid-morning calm. But soon the lunch hour would arrive, as would the crowds.

Blake could hardly believe that they'd been out this long. Fortunately, it seemed like they were close to rest. The area looked familiar, and Blake reckoned that the guest house wasn't more than a few minutes' walk from where they were.

Ordering was a simple affair. Weiss took the lead since takeout was her idea, and because if she left it up to their excitable leader then the order would never find its end. One spicy noodle bowl, one seafood noodle special, and two regular noodle courses, one with extra soy sauce.

Ruby rubbed her hands in anticipation while Weiss and Yang sat at the counter. Yang slumped against the the surface and propped her head up with her left hand, occasionally glancing at Blake with eyes fighting sleep. Blake gave back a similar look, and she tried to put on a smile for Yang.

Though Blake was initially reticent, the prospect of getting some actual food into her belly was causing it to growl impatiently. Blake tried to hide her self-awareness, hoping that it was simply her strong hearing picking up the gurgling.

"Hey," the shopkeeper said, "You're that girl."

Blake flicked an ear. Compelled to pay attention, Blake realized that she was the center of attention. Her teammates all had eyes on her. When she looked up, she found herself attended to by a bulky man, hazel eyes gleaming on a field of swarthy skin. He leaned on his counter.

"Blake Belladonna, was it?"

Hearing her name from a complete stranger was a bizarre feeling. Hesitantly, she looked at her friends and hoped they had an answer. Shrugs and tilted eyebrows were all she got. Yang's eyes were on the man, her hands curling into fists just beneath the surface of the counter. Slowly, Blake set her attention back on the shopkeeper.

"Yes?"

The burly man bore himself up at the confirmation. A deep breath swelled his chest and he slammed the countertop, sending the girls back with a start.

"Sign here, and consider this meal on the house," the shopkeeper exhaled. Blake felt her mouth fall open. Off to her side, Yang said, "Whoa." Ruby beamed next to her about Blake being famous. Weiss folded her arms and stared skeptically, but she kept her words to herself.

"I… that's kind of you," Blake said roughly, "but that's really not necessary."

"Nonsense," the shopkeeper said. "You saved our CCT and our academy from those White Fang zealots. You deserve this and more, but a free meal is all I can give." The shopkeeper forced a pen out alongside the order ticket. "I insist."

Blake looked to her teammates again, who were just as unhelpful in the decision making process now as they were before. She took up the pen and, with a sigh, put a facsimile of her signature on it.

"I appreciate your kindness," Blake said, doubtful but attempting to be gracious.

"It's what my sister would have wanted."

The shopkeeper now had the group's full attention.

"She was a huntress," he said. "Graduated from Haven a couple years ago. Everyone was incredibly proud of her." His boisterous stature seemed to shrink. "She… died while she was out helping to cull the Grimm in the days after what happened at Beacon." His voice, gruff as it was, became rougher still. With words slowly enunciated, he continued, saying, "She believed in what the academies stand for… so for me, it was as good as a personal favor, what you did."

He accepted the ticket back from Blake and scribbled something above it. Moments later, his cook had the orders served up in portable containers, which he then packed into paper bags. He banished the somber attitude and grinned broadly at the girls.

"Take these with my thanks," the shopkeeper said as he dropped the bags on the counter. "Bon appetit!"

* * *

With food for thought and for their bellies, the four members of Team RWBY sat in the yard of the guest house and ate. For a short while, things seemed almost… normal. They were together, and they were eating, and sharing each other's company in a way that had not been the case for months too many.

Yang seemed to respond to this; her mood brightened like the sun's face after a cloud's passing as she slurped her noodles and traded jibes with Ruby. Their laughter was something Blake never thought she'd miss; hearing it, she hadn't realized how silent her life had become.

Weiss sat beside Blake and quietly ate her meal, only participating in the banter as she was dragged in or queried by her partner for an opinion on the small talk. Blake herself remained quiet, considering the words of the shopkeeper at the stand. Her food went mostly ignored as she sat with her chin in her hands; the hunger that once roared now settled as a dull pain she could ignore.

"Blake?" She found silver eyes waiting for her when she lifted herself out of her introspection. "Is everything okay?" Ruby's eyes darted to Blake's food container, which had gotten as far as being opened and having chopsticks jammed into its contents.

Blake acknowledged that it was abundantly clear that she wasn't doing well. Her teammates were simply too polite to pry further, or perhaps they were still feeling awkward as their reacquaintance continued. At any rate, her discontent was between her and a certain blonde, who presently eyed her from above the brim of her diminished takeout box.

"I'm fine now," Blake said, attempting to put them at ease. She took stock of eyes blue, silver and lilac, spending just long enough in their gaze to read the first emotion of each. "I just… I thought I lost her back there."

A silence fell over the four of them. The first one to act out of turn was Yang, who shuffled uneasily to adjust her seated position. Her eyes drifted out to the Mistrali crags beyond the fencing on the yard, a steep drop just on the other side. Blake followed her partner's eyes, and she couldn't argue with the view. Were it under a better mood. The gloom did not fit the sunny autumn morning.

"It was a close call," Weiss said, finally breaking the ice. "But that's nothing new," she added with a sigh. Her fingers caressed a certain spot just below her ribcage, on the left of her abdomen. "It seems like we're always cutting it close."

"Life of a huntress," said Ruby, the rise in her voice making an earnest effort at chasing away the grave air. "But we're here to catch each other," she said, smiling.

There was another moment of quiet, but it was a warmer one. Tired, but agreeable. Blake finally felt a bit of her appetite return, and she took up her food and filled the space between words with small bites. Despite knowing it was her fault for waiting, Blake still felt a mild disappointment at how quickly the meal went cold.

Yang let out a sigh, and she crumpled her now empty container within her right hand. She hid her eyes for a moment, and then she looked up and fixed upon her sister with a sullen gaze.

"How screwed am I?"

* * *

Blake doubted that they could hide anything from Professor Ozpin. At a glance, he figured out her faunus heritage. He always seemed to know what their schemes were in school. Perhaps it was all part of a larger plan of his. Blake would not be surprised in the least if he somehow already knew that she and Yang had been missing for most of the night.

But it wasn't just Ozpin. Now it was Oscar, except Ozpin as well. What Blake struggled with now was the revelation that Ozpin lived on within Oscar. The unbelievable nature of the story besides, it also made Blake uneasy. That fairy tale didn't end well. At least it lent possibility to Ozpin being unaware of their misadventure.

Qrow was another matter. It surprised Blake that Ruby was willing to cover for Yang. Yang was ready to own up to her mistakes, and that besides they had information that would benefit the Kingdom and Academy. Perhaps they would still share that, but Ruby was going to put herself in the line of fire to soften the blow.

Blake didn't know Qrow that well, but she knew from their brief meeting at Beacon that he was an impatient man given to belligerence. Still, if it wasn't for Qrow, Ruby and Yang's stories would have come to an early and tragic end.

The parallels between that story from Yang's past and their recent misadventure were not lost on Blake.

As soon as the meal was done, Ruby decided that she and Weiss would catch up with the rest of their group, who had all gone to Haven Academy to assist with cleanup efforts. Blake almost forgot about the closure of the police investigation following the White Fang's assault, and she was determined to be present. At least she intended to be, before last night.

They did not ask Yang nor herself to join them. An invitation was implied, but Yang excused them without giving Blake a chance to respond. Though she was annoyed, that resentment fell away when she caught the protective look in Yang's eyes. Blake quickly, silently forgave Yang for her vigilance, and recognized that perhaps it was her mounting debt to her partner that was causing her to be frustrated.

Blake and Yang saw Ruby and Weiss off from the front of the house. When the smaller members of Team RWBY turned the corner of the road and vanished from sight, Yang let out a sigh. Blake turned her head aside slowly, and Yang was waiting for her attention with a bright smile. But its incandescence waned, and Yang's eyes searched for something neither of them could perceive. Yang crossed her arms and hung her head.

They had the house to themselves. The thought kicked off a strange stirring in the pit of Blake's stomach, and it seemed odd that she should feel this nervous. The mere act of opening her mouth to speak was made uncontrollable by the anxiety, and her breaths stuttered.

 _From the top,_ Blake thought, wresting control of her functions. _Just you and me… as it's always been._

"Yang," she said, her voice quavering. "I—"

"Blake!" A familiar, youthful voice carried her name upon rising thermal currents. Blake felt her features twitch. Sun could have picked a better time to come visiting.

The tall blonde rounded the corner at the bottom of the road, and up the path he strolled, his eyes reflecting the sky and carefree demeanor carried through in every stride. His approach accelerated, excitement evident as he noticed Yang standing next to her.

Yang's face had relaxed in surprise but gradually tightened back up. Her folded arms relaxed from the earlier tightness and she shook her hair back behind her shoulders as Sun closed the last few yards between them. Blake thought on the last time that she saw both blondes in the same place before Haven Academy, and her brows wrinkled up at the memory.

Yang in a hospital bed. Sun asleep at the bedside. Her shadow as she left them behind.

Blake grit her teeth, wanting to turn Sun away. It was _not_ a good time, and if she didn't know better she would imagine that Sun's semblance was a knack for arriving at either the _perfect_ or _worst_ time. No in-between, just a coinflip and a laugh between the fates. She felt fatigue on her like a leaden cloak, but Blake held herself back and allowed their peer to greet them.

"Yo, Yang!" Sun said, his hand held up for a high five. "Comeback of the year! You're looking great!"

Blake saw the skepticism cross lilac eyes. Dirty, disheveled, tired and drained would have been more apt terms for either of them. As nothing was said, it appeared as though Sun's faux pas dawned on him; his gaze alighted on the gleam of Yang's prosthetic arm and his smile dimmed in magnitude. The fingers on his upheld hand wiggled nervously before curling and retracting altogether. He grinned sheepishly.

Yang's bemused glare eased into a smirk, her eyes narrowed playfully. "Nice to see you too, Sun," she said, her voice a bit on the high side. The truth wasn't going to evade Sun for long, however; his eyes flit between Yang and Blake, picking up the more obvious signs of distress.

"What... happened?" Sun's brows pinched together as he finally took the finer details of their states into consideration. "You guys look like you've been in a fight."

"It's a long story," Yang said with a dismissive flip of the hand. "I'm gonna go wash up—I'll give you two a minute," she added softly. Yang bobbed her head towards Sun. Her hand came up and squeezed Blake on the shoulder.

Dried blood still stained the crevasses of Yang's fingers, her nails caked in dark red. Blake's eyes raised further and she caught a melancholy glance on an otherwise gentle smile. Their eyes lingered for a moment before Yang turned hers aside, their inner glow dimmed. She pivoted towards the front door, her gaze never leaving the path. A few long strides and she was inside. The door shut behind Yang, and Blake felt a cold sharpness between her shoulderblades.

The urge to give chase nearly took command of Blake's muscles. The ache spread like a bruise in her heart as she held herself back. She trembled, then settled; forcing Yang into anything was a futile endeavor.

"Is… this a bad time?" Blake looked back and confusion was writ plain on Sun's face. His posture slumped and his tail hung stiff and without life. She glared, not out of contempt but because he appeared to be completely oblivious to the signs that she thought were clear as the day. The pain in her chest dulled to a tightness that radiated to her throat, and her eyes felt overwhelmingly hot all of a sudden.

"What are you doing here, Sun?" Blake kept her voice soft, but her choice of words could have been gentler. She was barely able to hide her annoyance.

"I just wanted to check up on you. See how you were doing, how you were getting on with the gang. Speaking of, I saw Ruby and Weiss on the way." He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, back down the path he came up from. "I thought you were gonna be at Haven today?"

"That… was the plan." Blake wrapped her arms around herself, a pall of shame coming over her. "Yang and I got into some trouble last night," she said, elaborating before he could ask. "We just got back."

Mischief shone in Sun's eyes. "Sheesh, that didn't take long," he said while winking. "You guys must have hit it off pretty good to get back into it so quickly!"

Fresh memories clashed violently like pages torn from a book by a whirlwind. A shuddering breath left her, and she felt small in the grip of her own hands.

Sun went quiet. His grin faded. Instead of talking, Sun allowed himself a few moments to use those summer sky eyes for perception rather than charm, for once. "Did I say something wrong?"

Blake looked up. She became aware of the way her cheeks felt colder in the breeze than they had moments ago. The newfound wetness flowed slowly from the corners of her eyes, large droplets that gathered and rolled away.

Sun stiffened and seemed at a loss. Blake stood silently, her eyes averted slightly as the tears continued to drip. She wanted to do nothing less than explode. A pressure was building in her chest and it was suffering. To collapse, to cry and sob her eyes out would have at least exhausted her to the point where she could finally sleep. At least then she wouldn't have to agonize about problems that she couldn't even solve.

She felt a hand engulf her shoulder. Blake refocused her gaze, and Sun shaded her from the late morning light with his greater height.

"It's okay, Blake," he said evenly. "You can talk to me. I don't know, but maybe it'll help you out?"

Blake sniffed, trying to ignore how gross it sounded. "It's not me, Sun." Blake's chest was so tight that she felt breathless after those words, and she needed to breathe again before continuing. "It's Yang."

* * *

Blake went on to explain the major points of the evening. She wasn't actually reading when everything kicked off. She was asleep in the same room as Ruby and Weiss. As it happened to be, Blake's bed was against the same wall shared by Yang's room. The sound of Yang tossing and turning restlessly woke her up. She could hear Yang's unrest as though they were both in the same room.

She explained how she became alarmed that Yang was departing when she heard her leave the room, then the house. Blake described how she tracked Yang down in spite of her head start, and how they met in the forest's edge several miles south of Mistral's limits.

Then she described the Grimm. The Beowolves. The King Taijitu. The fall into the mines. The way that Yang's injury slowed them down. How they ran into an unknown type of Grimm that could induce images of dark thoughts, although Blake leaned more towards the hallucinations being actual copies due to the way they could interact with them. And finally, the climb and the horde of Grimm, the trek through the craggy valleys and hills of Anima, and the encounter with the Beringel that almost cost her her partner.

By the end of her tale, Blake had managed to seal up her box of emotions once again. Surprising, seeing how they threatened to consume her just moments ago. Now she felt numb, and that was its own loathsome sensation but it wasn't important in the moment. Breathless and with her throat in pain, Blake concluded her recollection with a feeble gesture. Blake did her best to dance around the details that could have embarrassed Yang. She trusted Sun to be discreet, but it was simply out of respect for her partner.

"Yang said she forgives me," Blake said, "on the condition that I forgive myself. But it's her, Sun! She's the one who isn't forgiving herself. And it's killing me. I've offered my ear, I keep telling her I'll be there for her. But… I don't think she trusts me still." Blake blinked something back, a prickling in her eyes.

When Blake did not find anything to add after several moments, Sun, who was so compelled into thought that he had his chin pinched in hand, spoke up.

"Maybe she does, maybe she doesn't," he said. "From the sounds of it, she relied on you a lot while you guys were out there. Especially in the mines." Sun gave his head a shake. "That place would be a nightmare for anyone, but anyone who's not a faunus? You wouldn't catch me dead in a creepy mine."

Blake chuckled gruffly. Sun's way of wording things remained silly and precocious. Laughter seemed like the only proper response, even weakly. "I guess she did." Blake brushed a hand over her eyes and found them painfully dry. She was forced to squeeze them shut to soothe them.

"No guessing about it," Sun continued. "She may not say it, but Yang definitely trusts you. You have to stop beating yourself up over the stuff that happened." Sun tapped the side of his head with a forefinger. "Remember what we talked about? Yang did what she felt she had to do. Maybe it was the right choice, maybe it wasn't. The point is, she made it."

"But she almost… died." The word was real enough anymore that Blake dreaded the mere sound of it..

"But she didn't!"

Blake made a low sound in her throat. _They're the same, I swear._ That was such a Yang thing to retort with. Though her sight was still blurry, Blake found the pain dulled enough to open her eyes again. Despite the lack of focal strength, her glaring power was no less diminished. A fuzzy rendition of Sun snapped his arms out in a shrug.

"I don't want people to go throwing their lives away for me," Blake said firmly.

"And that's not your choice to make!" Sun's voice hardened. Blake felt her blood pressure rising. They were really going to butt heads over this again, weren't they?

"Stop looking at it like that," he added, the edge in his tone gone as quickly as it arose. "It's a gift, Blake. Life out here is rough and it can be short. No one knows that better than us huntsmen. Tomorrow could be the end of one of us. Knowing that, do you really think she's doing it lightly?"

Blake already knew the answer to that. With a defeated sigh, she shook her head.

"Right. So, you want to help Yang? Then just do it!" Sun thrust a finger towards the upper floor windows. "You were there to help her when she needed it, even when she didn't want it. That hasn't changed. You've just got less Grimm to worry about now."

Blake dipped her head a little. "I'm sorry, Sun."

"Huh?" The grin he wore carried even into his words. "Whatever for?"

"I'm feeling a little overwhelmed right now. I didn't mean to snap at you." She felt her ears flatten out. Guilty eyes lifted from her feet and regarded Sun apologetically.

Sun's enthusiasm dimmed, and Blake was not remiss of the fact. When it seemed like he had difficulty forming words, Blake began to feel real concern.

"Sun?"

He snapped back to attention, blue eyes regaining clarity.

"Sorry. It's just that you guys are finally back together and you're acting like it's all going wrong." Sun waved to get Blake's attention. When she followed his gesture, he rewarded her with a bright smile. "But Yang needs you. Trust me on this one. Give her some time and she'll come around. You just gotta be there when she's ready."

Blake let her arms fall to her sides. Finally, she raised a hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. She smiled as a direction became clear.

"Thank you, Sun."

Sun beamed, as he was wont to do. "I'm no fortune-teller, but something tells me that things will be back to normal before you know it. _Better_ than normal."

Of that Blake felt doubtful. But there was no harm in a little optimism, right? Suddenly, her balance wobbled, and the world lost its weight for a moment. Sun's eyes went wide and he reached out to just barely brush his fingers against her shoulder as Blake regained herself.

"You gonna be alright?" he asked, concern painting his features.

"I just need to lie down." Blake favored her head. The overwhelming urge to break down was gone, but an unwelcome tension lingered in her throat and head.

"Just go and do that, then. I was kinda hoping to hang out, but that's okay. I gotta go and meet Neptune here in a bit anyway. Need anything before I go?"

"No," she said, looking at him through her fingers. "Say hi to Neptune for me."

"Tell him yourself!" Sun said, laughing as he turned around. "We'll be back."

"Thanks for the warning."

Sun laughed and walked off. Blake waved after him and watched his figure grow smaller. When he finally turned the corner on the winding path, Blake looked towards the front doors.

She took a breath and went inside.

* * *

The faint sound of running water was the first thing that she noticed in the otherwise quiet abode. _She's still in the shower,_ Blake thought as she shut the door behind herself. The great room opened up before her, its inviting spaces cold despite the warm colors, red and green and chestnut. Passing through the parlor, she bore towards the staircase. She took the steps with unusual caution, knowing her half-awake state. Each pace she measured until she was in the second floor corridor.

Though she had given herself a quick rinse at the stream, it hardly counted for a bath. And at any rate, they had been in battle since then, and whatever filth she had been done with was replaced in the fight with the Beringel. She wondered if she had the will to stay up long enough to bathe. The sound of the water was incredibly inviting, though…

Blake raised a hand to the door of the room she shared with Ruby and Weiss. Her eyes drifted to the neighboring door. Yang's bedroom.

The door was open. Her brows quirked

A frown crossed her face. Blake wasn't sure if it was at the consideration she was giving to what was essentially intrusion, or if it was because of the conversation she had with Ruby the first night they spent together since they were reunited.

" _Why is Yang sleeping by herself?"_

" _That's the way it's been since I was old enough to have my own room."_

" _But it wasn't at Beacon. Isn't she lonely?"_

" _... Yeah."_

" _Aren't you worried about her?"_

" _Of course I am. But she always says she's fine. I know she's not… but you know Yang."_

Blake felt her heart breaking. She knew Yang was struggling, but the full picture wasn't clear until their jaunt in the wilds. Why was she refusing the support of even her own sister?

Before she even realized it, Blake had leaned her head into Yang's room. It was clean… uncharacteristically so. She recalled their time at Beacon, how Yang's bed was always a tangle of unmade sheets and beaten up pillows. Sometimes there were even snack food wrappers tucked into the folds of the comforter. Blake had the misfortune of bunking right underneath that, at least once waking up to a beef jerky foil in her hair.

The late morning light streamed in through the slits two windows' curtains. A glint caught Blake's eye, and when she resolved what it was she drew a sharp breath.

Yang's prosthetic.

It was placed with care on the nightstand of one of the beds, laid on the gold-painted side so that the palm of the hand faced upward. Her gauntlet sat alongside it, the breech open, and a gun cleaning kit next to them; Yang intended to do routine maintenance or had done it already. At the foot of the bed sat a yellow sports bag with Yang's unmistakable emblem in black. It was open, a few pieces of clothing halfway stuffed into it. Her leather jacket laid on the bed itself, unzipped and aired out.

Blake stepped inside and walked to the center of the room. Curiosity had gotten the better of her, and a selfish impulse to know more fought with her better sense of ethics even as she looked around.

Ransacking. She drew the line at ransacking. No rummaging, rifling, or searching. Things that were left out were fair game, she could write it off if she was caught; but she wouldn't go picking through Yang's belongings.

Next to the jacket, Yang's scroll sat open on the bed. Stepping closer, Blake read the article on the screen.

Her stomach dropped.

 _HEADMASTER LIONHEART KILLED—Haven Suspects Still On The Run, White Fang Leader Adam Taurus Still At Large_ , blared the headline. The article was scrolled to the end; Yang had read it.

Blake knew about living in Adam's shadow. Sleeping became difficult and she couldn't help feeling like he was always there, just out of the edge of her periphery. The little shadows around a corner became monsters, and going through daily life became an act of attrition. It was a long time before she could even act without worrying about invoking his ire, despite his absence.

Was that it?

It made her sick to think that Yang was possibly going through the same thing. Blake knew that he was separated from his power base, no doubt on the road to being ostracized by the other members of the White Fang. But that didn't mean she felt better about it. It wouldn't mean that Yang would feel better about it. The scars remained, burning like a brand.

Anger welled up until Blake felt tongues of fire in her eyes. In an effort to take her thoughts off of her former partner, her attention drifted over the open sports bag.

Her expression softened. Blake walked over to it and stood, losing an inner debate. The shimmer of glossy paper beckoned.

She broke her one rule.

Blake drew the photograph out of the sports bag. She made a wistful sound, a sigh and a broken word. The lineup was of their younger selves—Ruby, Weiss, Yang and herself. "NEW FRIENDS!" the red ink practically shouted, and it didn't take a second thought to imagine whose handwriting that was. She could already read the words in Ruby's voice.

"Blake?"

Her body jolted violently. Clammy fingers lost grip of the photo and it fluttered to the bed, the leaf of an autumn memory. Breathing became loud in the silence. Blake turned in place and came to face Yang, now standing in the doorway.

Her eyes were cool but piercing, slowly but surely piecing together the scene around Blake. Her wet hair gleamed like spun gold and clung to the angles and curves of her muscular shoulders, and a bath towel hung around her neck. A black sports bra and a pair of loose gray pajama pants were her only pieces of attire. Briefly, Blake marveled at how much the clothes changed her, how she looked more like Yang Xiao Long the girl, rather than Yang Xiao Long the huntress. Her imposing stature was made soft by a healthy weight and the heady scent of her floral shampoo, something with citrus notes and honeysuckle.

Then her eyes drifted to the terminus of her right arm, the sudden ceasing right above where her elbow used to be. Her admiration quickly sobered. They were close enough that Blake could feel the heat radiating from Yang, but it wasn't enough to stave off the chills from seeing her in such a vulnerable state.

Blake felt lightheaded. In waiting for Yang to say something, _anything_ , she forgot about things like breathing. She drew a sharp breath, if only to keep herself from feeling faint.

Yang spoke with her eyes. At first they were wide, surprised. And as she gradually became aware of the things Blake must have seen or thought, they became dim, half-lidded. She followed Blake's gaze, and it was like she knew what she was thinking.

Yang stepped towards her bed. Blake hurried across the room, getting out of the way. The towel around Yang's neck hit the bed, and she retrieved the scroll and shuttered it. Slowly, Yang eased herself onto the bed and moved close to the nightstand, from which she pulled her hairbrush. With a toss of her head, Yang had the bulk of her hair over her right shoulder. She proceeded to run the brush through her immense mane, and for a minute the only sound was of Yang's methodical combing.

Blake watched and trembled. Was she angry? Was this okay with her? Should she… help?

Blake couldn't find the will to speak. Inside it felt as though she stood on a house of cards. She tread precarious ground as it was, seeing the old photo. A lifetime ago, it might as well be, but the yearning for simpler times wrenched at her.

"Do you need something?" Yang said, finally breaking the silence. Blake felt her legs wobble. Fortunately, the bed was there to catch her just one step back. Blake fell upon it, eyes fixed on her partner.

Yang didn't break pace. Stroke by stroke, each one measured. Practiced. Slow, as if unnatural to the hand. A simple task made difficult. Yang was not left-handed. It struck Blake how much Yang had to relearn. It might have been mentioned, but seeing it was altogether… raw. Raw as the red and black of the broken skin on Yang's knuckles.

"I… actually wanted to ask you that," Blake said. She glanced at the prosthetic, then back to its owner. "Why don't you use your…"

"My hair gets caught in the joints," Yang responded predictively. "It's easier this way."

Blake rounded her mouth, but made no sound. She looked down briefly, then she raised her head. "Would you like me to help?"

The brushing stopped. Blake felt the air grow cold again, and Yang did not look up from her knees, though she seemed to be weighing something in her mind.

"I'm good," she said after a heavy moment's consideration, and she went back to brushing.

"Oh." Her feline ears wilted. "Okay."

Blake was disappointed, but she understood. Yang was very personal about her hair, and Blake was trying to respect her independence besides. Still seeking ways she might ease her partner's burden, she looked at the prosthetic sitting on the nightstand. "I could clean your arm for you while you do that," Blake suggested.

"I'm good," Yang repeated, not pausing this time to deliver the message.

Fair. Her arm was rather personal and advanced. Maybe it was for the best that she didn't mess with it. But Blake had handled Ember Celica before, if only for utility. She was about as proficient with it as Yang was skilled at wielding Gambol Shroud, but at least she knew how to take care of it.

"I've cleaned your gauntlet befo—"

"Blake."

Yang's voice trembled dangerously. An unpleasant wire pulled at Blake's head, the sensation of her ears folding back reflexively, as though anticipating a very loud noise.

Blake stared and waited with heightened caution. When still nothing was said, Yang went back to brushing her hair. At least, she attempted it.

Her left hand shook.

As Yang tried to run the brush through her hair, instead of drawing the bristles in a straight line they bounced back and forth and created a horrible tangle. Yang's brows knit as she tried to force the matter, and it worsened. Her frustration exploded. The brush hit the tatami and Blake flinched at the bang, her heart skipping. The clatter of the brush echoed in the room and in her head.

The sight of Yang seizing her hand between her right arm and her body hollowed Blake's chest and scalded itself into her memory. Her hand shot out towards Yang, fingers splayed, and she felt her heart drumming like they were at the cliff's edge all over again.

"Yang, are you—"

"I'm fine!" she hissed. Yang hunched over herself, her body trembling. After a lingering moment, she looked up, and a deep look of shame had sunken into her face. Her eyes watered, and Blake felt her eyes doing the same.

"Aren't you going to take a bath?" Yang said lowly, more a statement than a question. Her eyes were downcast.

"Yang, please." Blake couldn't suppress the shiver in her voice anymore. "You don't have to do this alone. I'm _here_. I'm not leaving you to suffer by yourself again! I…" She recalled what she said to Sun, the words she used. "It's killing me to see you like this."

Yang glared at the ground. Her gaze, piercing as always, just avoided meeting Blake's.

"Then maybe it's better that you go," she said icily. "I didn't want you to see me like this." Yang looked up and locked eyes with Blake. "Now, you know why."

Blake searched. She searched and sought and thought of the right words to say. But for all her reading, nothing came to mind. Her tired brain drew a complete blank, or on the other extreme a board with a field of overlapping script. Nothing helpful, nothing coherent. She struggled beneath Yang's withering stare, but eventually time ran out and Yang turned away. In one angry sweep she pushed her belongings off the bed, including that picture from their early days at Beacon. Her body hit the bed in the next moment, and she turned away from Blake to face the wall.

Blake felt empty. Wraithlike. Like she was only partially alive at that point. Blake lifted herself from the bed and drifted towards the door. Perhaps out of self-indulgence, she let her eyes linger on Yang before she stepped out.

The bolt clicked in Blake's ears. She leaned back against the door and closed her eyes, a broken breath escaping through her nostrils. As the noise died, Blake picked up another sound. Someone choking. Sobbing.

 _Yang_. Her lips formed the shape of the name, but it came out soundlessly.

Blake closed her eyes again and tried to find some small guiding thought, some spark of inspiration. Something, anything, a sign that would tell her how to take pain away from another. Her breathing grew rough, and without knowing it her eyes were pouring silently.

A shower. It was a good idea. Blake took Yang's suggestion to heart and went to clean herself up. At least this way she could drown out the anguish, the bitter sounds of the strongest person she knew as she broke in two.

* * *

 **The real monsters are the ones in our hearts. Honestly one of the toughest things I've had to write, because I wasn't sure if I was doing it justice. Mental illness doesn't just affect the victim, but also those that love them. In an effort to minimize the damage, those of us who are besot with these invisible ailments often hide them or shut out those closest to us. Anyhow, I don't mean to be a downer, if that's how it was taken. Worry not, for the night is darkest before dawn, and all that.**

 **Major thanks to everyone who has given me feedback or commentary. That you take the time out of your lives to personally respond to my writing has unquantifiable meaning to me.** **As always, messages, comments and feedback is always welcome!** **I hope you enjoyed this chapter and look forward to the next.**


	11. Firelight

**XI**

 **Firelight**

* * *

Yang opened her eyes and found herself in a blank expanse.

She took a few tentative steps. None made a sound as she trod over some even, characterless surface. It induced her anxiety, like everything about the place. There were things absent here, things one doesn't notice until they've gone missing. It was strangely lightless; no sign of sun or moon, not giant lamp nor shadow that followed her. Rather, it seemed like she was walking through a dense fog that itself was imperceptible, yet somehow still obscured everything.

"Hello!" Yang shouted. Her voice disappeared into the sky, not an echo to be heard.

There was no way of telling her direction. She grit her teeth, it was maddening. Were it not for the pull of gravity, Yang could not tell which way was up or down. Her thoughts snowballed, verges on avalanche, but before she let it overcome her, she buried her worries and simply picked a direction. She walked.

Lost but confident that she could get herself to a point of reference, Yang pressed on. She continued that way for a long time, an immeasurable time. She searched her pockets for her scroll but she must have forgotten it. As the minutes became hours and nothing changed, Yang's perseverance began to wane. Weariness dug into her muscles with taloned fingers and her boots seemed to become leaden. Even the blandness of the scenery started to make her eyes water. She began forcing herself blink.

A not insignificant part of Yang wanted to stop. The loneliness and growing hopelessness made her want to collapse and cry out. Around her, nothing, and no one that she could reach out to. Her shouts wouldn't carry. She knew she couldn't stop; no one was coming to help her. Yang had to help herself.

She sighed, and she continued her aimless journey in the last direction she remembered moving towards.

The next step missed the ground.

Nothing about the surroundings had changed. But she was falling.

Her heart jumped to her throat, and a harsh pivot strained her core as she tried to catch onto something. She flipped violently, her hands flailed out towards her former position as she torqued, and by will or luck alone she managed to gain purchase on something solid.

The force jarred her shoulders. Her muscles complained, pulled to the limit without warning. A small cry of pain escaped between clenched teeth, and Yang forced a few rapid breaths to help compose herself and get her floundering heartbeat under control. She let out a long breath and tapped her head against the surface of whatever it was she was hanging onto, an even and hard precipice as inscrutable as the rest of the blank environment.

"Yang!"

A new voice. Not her own. Utterly alien in this place. Too warm and filled with concern for a locale as devoid as life as this monotone wasteland.

Yang looked up by instinct. Out of the blankness materialized Blake, her figure blazing with color in the dead white. Her skin glowed with heat and life, and her eyes shone like mirrored gold, but the beauty of her features was deeply scarred by the flaw of fear. Black hair swirled around her as if in a gale, but Yang could feel no wind here.

Blake's reached her hand out to her from further above, upon that invisible ledge. Yang searched but found nothing, no handhold to use to to close the distance. Fearing that once she let go she would be unable to regain her current grip, she decided she had to throw herself upwards. But already she was so tired from walking and hanging on.

 _I'm sorry, Blake._

A longing erupted in her chest, and Yang tensed her shoulders.

 _This weight is too much for me. Too much for you._

Yang's muscles went taut and pulled against her handholds with all her might.

 _I'm sorry I hurt you._

She hurtled. But already it felt like too little. Still her hand shot out towards Blake's.

 _I hope you'll understand._

Their fingertips brushed. Her hand grasped and closed on air.

 _One day._

A noise tore through the blank infinity. Blake's voice. It drove a knife through her chest. Above, her terrified face disappeared into the fog. Once absent winds were suddenly in her ears, howling as she plummeted.

She was falling. The shadows crept in on Yang's vision. Her heart beat out of time. She was falling.

* * *

Yang heaved in her bed like her soul was trying to escape. Lilac eyes snapped open and darted wildly as she fought for air. The dark of the room crushed in on all sides. Yang reached for the nightstand, grasping.

Nothing.

Confusion set in as she flailed. She stopped, forced herself to be still, and took a moment to study her racing thoughts. The hammering in her chest was the only sound in the still, and as she caught her breath the torrent in her ears came down to a dull roar. Soon, only the buzzing in her head remained.

Yang remembered. She hadn't worn her prosthetic to bed. The ghost of her missing arm burned at the end of her right bicep, and she touched its end with a wince that she tried to hide out of habit.

The weight of her body seemed greater suddenly, and she let herself fall back into the bed. There she lied for a few minutes, collecting her thoughts while she wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow. Details of her dream were already sinking into obscurity.

She remembered the falling. An empty world. No beginning and no end. She was lost and alone. She slipped and...

Blake was there.

A deep breath escaped her in tatters. Hazy memories from before began to surface. What had she done?

Yang felt the tears collecting. She forced them down. It was an effort and it took a few minutes. After gathering herself, Yang swallowed, found her throat dry, and looked to the wall against her bed.

Her partner was sleeping on the other side. Mere feet from each other yet worlds apart. So close, but so far.

Her left hand pressed against the wall, her fingers curling against it as her frustration simmered. She glared into the dark, but anger turned to sorrow as her mind began allocating blame. Yang knew she created this mess, beginning with her mercurial flight. She couldn't even begin to think of how to make things right.

She kicked her feet out, enduring a loathsome clawing in her stomach. Sitting on the edge of her bed, her head hung, she combed her fingers lamely through her hair. Now acclimated to the dark, her eyes flit about the shadows. Eventually she located her scroll on the floor and checked the time. _04:23_ , its face read. Next to where she found her scroll and jacket was the photo of her team that she'd carried across Anima with herself. She picked it up tenderly, as though it might crumble if it was further mishandled, and set it on the nightstand.

Sleep fled before Yang as more of her mental faculties began to ignite. She donned her prosthetic, carefully fitting it until the tell-tale click of its mount sounded. She flexed her robotic fingers a few times and looked at the palm.

Even several months after deciding to accept the artificial limb as part of her new reality, there still felt like there was a disconnect, like she was piloting a part of herself by wire. It made her constantly aware of a part of herself that was no longer there. She worried, in a way that was distinctly not like herself, about how she was perceived.

Blake did not deserve that.

Her heart was in the right place, but Yang knew how Blake would feel seeing her as she was. She struggled to brush her own hair. Only recently had she developed enough dexterity to passingly maneuver a pair of chopsticks again. The traitorous nerves in her remaining hand forced her to act to preserve her dignity, and her broken mind made her a danger to those closest to her. How could anyone see her in such a pathetic state and believe that she was still qualified to be a huntress, much less one's partner?

Blake deserved better.

A single tear cut a cold trail across her cheek. Yang rubbed it out angrily and wished she didn't have these emotions.

Sleep was a lost cause. Yang traded her pajama pants for her denim and threw on her jacket.

It wasn't over. As long as she could still take another step, she would.

* * *

In the predawn gloom, the Mistrali crags were still clear and free of clouds. Fog filled the valley below, and the wind was fresh and cold. Yang sat in the middle of the yard, staring out into the lonely world.

She planted her hands on her knees and closed her eyes. Finding her center, Yang straightened her back and her chin tilted slightly upwards. She swelled her chest with the mountain air. The slight taste of dew and lime danced at the back of her throat, and the air she breathed came back up in steaming wreaths that spirited against her face. She repeated the practice precisely a number of times over several minutes.

This helped bring her down from the heights of anxiety. The focus took her mind off of wild imaginings that set her thinking. Errant thoughts were given a chance to arise and pass. Yang knew she wasn't good at letting go, whether it was dwelling on something or obsessively pursuing answers. For thinking too much on something, she acted without thinking.

Acting without thinking cost her an arm.

Yang exhaled and decided she was done with meditation. She threw her legs out from their crossed position beneath her, pivoted onto her belly, and began a set of push-ups. One-handed. Because using a mechanical implement was… cheating, really. They came easily at first, as always, but the real objective was to get herself warmed up. Again she shifted, from one exercise to the next until she felt her heart beating in her ears. The heat that radiated from her body before long pushed back against the cold air, a thin sheen of sweat gathered on her brow.

Once she was finished with warm-ups, she shot up to her feet and walked to the fence. The yard was spacious, but the cliff made it seem more constrained than it actually was. She gazed off again into the darkened sky for a long moment, then she walked back to the center of the yard.

Her jacket came off. With a puff of dust it hit the open ground, and Yang walked a few paces from it. She faced towards the cliff and rolled her shoulders.

Yang planted her feet, left foot leading. She raised her hands into a boxing stance and focused. Her breathing stilled. She felt the force from the ground up. She twisted at the waist and threw a hard right, the air seeming to pop at the end. She held her pose, then she returned to her basic stance and repeated the motion. Until it became instinct, repetition was the path to perfection. For so long, all of her muscles knew exactly how to move, where to contract, how to extend to deliver the maximal payload of force.

Her artificial arm introduced a new dynamic. The lack of feedback combined with her initial hyperawareness of what it was doing and where it was in relation to the rest of her body made her more conscientious about her fighting style. It hearkened a change in Yang's attitude towards combat. Visceral pleasure became secondary to utility. Instead of all-out brawling, counterpunching found more of a place in her repertoire. So many have thought of her as exclusively a pugilist, but Yang liked it that way; the flutter kicks always caught them by surprise.

Several minutes of practicing the same punch grew monotonous before long. Yang shot her left hand in combination without considering it, and from there she fell into a mental spar.

Her clone came at her. She had a wild hook in store for her. Yang ducked the imaginary assault on the open side. Two piston-like hooks were her response. Then she hooked her lead foot back to trip with her heel. And finally, her hammering collarbreaker punctuated the series. Oof, GG, Shadow Yang.

Yang felt her heart drum in the still. The rush of blood was in her ears. The sky had brightened to a pale blue but still the land remained dark. Between everything, she'd spent close to an hour out here already. Sweat trickled down her back and arms. The fog also began to creep up from the valley, ghostly tendrils slithering across the edges of the yard.

Yang took a breath and stared off into the dawn sky.

After a moment's rest and contemplation, Yang settled into another bout of shadowboxing.

This time, more loose. Time to Yang out.

"Heh," she said to herself. Her hands whipped out to their sides with a snap, and she danced with an invisible adversary for a moment. A jab tested. She lunged forward, a feint. Suddenly, she shuffled back, her hands up to deflect; right, left, right. She ducked low and threw an elbow, then she exploded with a left cross that turned her in place. The toe of her back foot left a semicircle gouge in the earth, bringing her around to face the house.

Her eyes widened, a sharp breath forcing her lips apart.

 _Blake._

Their regard met with startling force. Still dressed in her yukata, Blake had at some point seated herself on the stoop leading out of the training room. Yang had no way of knowing when, as this was Blake and her approach was always silent. Her hair was somewhat disheveled, like she had just gotten out of bed, but her eyes were large and attentive.

Her feline ears betrayed fear, leaned back. Blake got rapidly to her feet.

"Wait!" said Yang, the word leaping from her throat before she could think. _Always before she could think._ She didn't have a thought to follow it and hesitated. Her hand hung in the air, open and pleading for a moment.

Blake stopped mid-step and glanced back, her ears still flattened against her head. She clutched a fist close to her chest. Gold irises glittered from beneath her raven hair, but they avoided direct contact yet.

"I didn't want to interrupt you," she said, an attempt to excuse herself. Yang grimaced. Blake's voice was still haggard, maybe moreso than when they last spoke. She relaxed her stance and she walked slowly towards Blake, picking up her jacket along the way.

"I was just blowing off some steam," Yang said, playing off the surprise at suddenly seeing her. Blake lowered that tensed hand from her chest, some color returning to her fingers; her feline ears raised back up to their rested position, but her face went slack. She considered Yang directly, eyes bemused.

"Really."

Yang stared and gradually screwed up her brows, wondering how she'd misspoken. Then she realized that she was literally throwing off steam from her skin, her body heat visible in the morning chill.

"That was… not on-purpose," Yang said, an implied _I swear_ in her eyes.

Blake studied Yang for a moment, and then her lips quirked at the edges. A soft smile emerged. Yang felt her jaw unwind, and her teeth thanked her for the relaxation. But too soon, Blake's expression waned and she was gazing off to Yang's side, drawing her yukata close.

Yang watched and cast her eyes about, knowing she was partially responsible for the tension. Her throat knotted and she swallowed uncomfortably, searching for words that would sound right. Blake's eyes seemed a little puffy, like she had been crying for a while. Not recently, but still the signs were there. Self-loathing crept at the recesses of her mind, but Yang let her defiance flare, a torch to ward off the shadow of doubt.

"How's your throat?" she asked, just above the sound of the trade winds' passage.

"A little worse," said Blake, an eye winced shut. "But it'll get better through the day."

Yang thought about what she could do. She had no intention of holding Blake to a conversation sounding like that, although she sensed that's exactly what Blake herself wanted. Her anxiety creeping, Yang focused on Blake's health first. If Yang was honest with herself, that was her priority anyway. She could work on herself later.

"Do you want some tea?" Yang smiled, gesturing towards her own throat with her left hand. "I used to make some for Ruby whenever she got a sore throat. She's not much of a tea drinker, but…"

Blake's gaze returned to Yang, and when she reflected the smile it felt like a homecoming.

"I would like that," Blake said. Evidently tired of contending with the cold, Blake turned and led the way back into the house.

Yang cast her gaze back towards the eastern sky. The sun began to peek over the limestone bluffs, and with a sigh of relief she felt like she had finally taken a step towards making things right.

 _One step at a time._

* * *

The morning light did not reach the inside of the house. Quiet and dark, the two navigated the stairs and parlor with the same caution they exercised in the mines. Yang hadn't turned any lights on to avoid disturbing the other residents of the house, and Blake simply didn't need them. Now on the way back, Yang relied on Blake to lead the way.

Midway through the parlor, Blake halted and Yang stumbled into her. She thought she saw Blake shoot her a glance over her shoulder, but Yang had her hands full keeping herself and her partner upright.

"H-hey, watch it!" Blake said through her teeth.

"Sorry!" Yang winced and promptly took her hands off of Blake's waist. Her throat cleared, and she directed her attention towards other thoughts. "What are you doing?"

The shadows composing Blake's ears fanned minutely. "There's someone else in the kitchen."

Yang lofted a brow. "So?" she said, her voice returning to a normal timbre. "Let's go say hi." Yang brushed lightly around Blake. She thought she heard a hiccup from her partner, but thought nothing of it besides how strangely cute it was.

Blake, who had been holding her breath, heaved a sigh and dropped all pretenses of stealth. Yang led them to the kitchen, but she found it… dark. Yang stood in the archway, her brows furrowed.

"Blake, there's no one—"

Light flooded the room, and fire prickled at Yang's eyes. At the same time she heard Blake's cry from close behind. Yang brought up the back of her left hand to wipe away the defensive tears. Her vision cleared, and from the blur resolved a pastel-colored figure, the glowering personification of perky aggression.

Nora Valkyrie stood beside the lightswitch, a spatula spinning effortlessly in the palm of her other hand. A crooked grin crept across her lips as she set her eyes upon them like Beowolves on a couple of hapless hikers.

"Did you two _sneak out_ again?" she asked with feigned severity, her turquoise eyes narrow but loaded with suggestion.

Yang forced her eyes to open to their normal width, slowly adjusting to the glare of the lamp. She wasn't as dense as she let on sometimes, and Nora's joke struck a nerve with all the force of her beloved hammer. It was a joke, right? Yang laughed warily, for Nora, also, was more perceptive than she seemed.

"What are you even talking about?" Yang asked, ignorance feigned.

The grin Nora wore broadened still. "Oh, don't play dumb," she said as she snapped the spatula up in her fingers. "You and Blake went on an adventure without us! And now you're sneaking back in again?—awfully _suh-spi-shus_ to me!"

Yang heard the sound of Blake's hand smacking into her forehead. It took a moment but it made sense that Ruby or Weiss must have told JNR about the 'adventure' Nora was referring to. As the realization dawned in Yang's eyes, Nora's grin expanded to frightening proportions.

"I, uh. Yeah." Such was the eloquence Yang could muster. A moment passed in silence, and she decided to voice her skepticism. "How long were you waiting in the dark?"

"Oh, not _too_ long," Nora answered vaguely, her eyes again squinted with unspecified mischief.

Yang cleared her throat. Her eyes swept the kitchen and found a glaring omission in the present company. "And where's Ren?"

Nora giggled. "Ren's just getting the things from the pantry." Her voice dropped low, conspiratorial. "We're making... pancakes!" she growled. She practically vibrated, her bouncy ginger hair shaking around her rosy cheeks.

Yang looked back towards Blake, who was the picture of misery. If Blake had any thoughts about the way the conversation was going, she didn't interject, but she was certainly showing hints. Looking back to Nora, Yang offered up a shrug.

"Need any help?"

"Oh, no," said Nora, the spatula in her grip wantonly reflecting light. "Ren and I can handle it. _You_ can go ahead and make your tea, and then you _and Blake_ can relax while we take care of breakfast!"

She twitched her eye at Nora's inflections.

"That's awfully generous of you." Blake finally put in her two lien, and what must have been the roughness commanded Nora's attention. Her grin vanished, replaced by the look of someone who had just heard a mouse growl.

"Yeah," she said, whispering as though Blake wasn't able to hear, " _definitely_ get her that tea."

Blake went to sit in the parlor while Yang remained in the kitchen, exposed to the radiation of Nora's morning mood. She wasn't the type to pry—Nora's methods were much less subtle and about as tactical as the grenade launcher she her hammer doubled as. For a mercy, Ren came back up from the pantry with his arms full of dry ingredients and stole Nora's attention away. Yang could finally resume avoiding the question of her relationship with Blake.

Yang glanced into the parlor occasionally and witnessed Blake going through the stages of choosing a read. The first look, she was fingering through the spines of a few books lying on the coffee table. The next, she had one of them open in her lap. And then… she was still on the first page. Either it wasn't very interesting or Blake couldn't focus on the activity.

The kettle whistled, and Nora, unable to help herself, yelled, "It's ready!" Ren shook his head and muttered an aside about "inside voices" as Yang walked up to the range. Ren grabbed the tea service while Yang measured out the tea leaves and fed them into the kettle. She then searched through the cabinets and found the honey jar, and she added a generous dollop to the cup intended for Blake. And she added some for herself, because heck.

The noise levels were like night and day when Yang crossed the threshold into the parlor. Finally there was some quiet, but Yang found that it lacked tranquility.

At the center of it was Blake. Her chosen book sat closed in her lap, the attempt to read it surrendered. Instead, Blake stared off and only acknowledged Yang when she announced her arrival.

"Tea for two!" she said, attempting to brighten her partner's gloom. For her efforts, Yang got a glum smile. The tea tray and all its goods were set down on the table, and she reached out for the teapot. Yang stopped short. Her attention shifted and she noticed Blake watching her hands carefully. Yang twitched her fingers and made a low sound in her throat, and carefully she poured the tea out, her left hand maneuvering the kettle.

Steam spilled from the earthenware cups once Yang was finished, and she gave Blake's a quick stirring with one of the spoons she brought out. Properly mixed, she set the drink in front of Blake. With the scent of fragrant mint filling the air around them, Yang walked around the table and eased into the sofa to Blake's right.

"Drink up," Yang said, then busying herself with cooling her own serving. "You'll feel better afterward." Her eyes drifted to the closed book.

The urge to go for the low hanging fruit was overwhelming. _What's the matter, Blake? Not smutty enough for you?_ At this point she was willing to go over the top if it meant getting Blake to crack her melancholy, but her better senses told her to avoid _that_ one while scalding hot liquid was within reach.

Yang shifted her eyes between the various subjects. Blake, the tea, the inscrutable distance at which she was staring. Yang smothered her mischievous urges and expressed it with a sigh.

"I'm listening."

Blake flicked an ear. Her head turned slowly and she addressed Yang with the same watchful gaze she had seen out in the yard. She stared for a moment, amber eyes gleaming and searching, but inwardly as well. Their eyes met and the gaze lingered, like Blake was trying to read her thoughts, and she Blake's. A sense of discomfort began to filter in and Yang averted her eyes, busying herself with her drink for a moment. She cleared her throat and looked at the table, waiting for Blake to say something.

Blake finally turned her attention away from Yang, if only for a moment. She brought the tea to her lips and took a small sip. Her head recoiled, a glare set on the cup.

"Careful!" Yang said, her posture straightening.

"I'm fine," Blake said. "It's just… very sweet. How much honey did you put in this?"

"I totally eyeballed it." Yang sighed and brought her shoulders close. "Is it… too much? Want me to make you another cup?"

Something clattered in the kitchen. Nora's incoherent yelling followed, arresting both Blake and Yang's attention.

"No," Blake said after a the surprised moment, giving a gentle shake of her head. "This is good. Thank you." She brought the cup close to her face and closed her eyes, letting the steam curl against her face.

Another silence lapsed between them. Yang was vaguely aware of the thumping upstairs, Ruby's muffled voice shouting "Dibs!" and the racing sound that followed. A door slammed and the shower started up across the house moments later.

Yang cleared her throat with the same caution one might use while tending wounds. Blake continued to stare at her tea, occasionally taking a sip. Still she remained distant and distracted. It didn't give Yang much to go on; she may as well start with small talk.

"Did you rest okay?" Immediately she felt stupid. The swollen eyes, disheveled hair, distant expression—it all bespoke fitful sleep, if any. She knew better, and she knew Blake knew she knew better. Yang did her best to hide her discomfort.

"I managed," Blake answered into her drink. Her hands trembled just so, as if catching a chill. Yang continued staring with widened eyes, watching for the tells.

"You're doing it again," Blake said, after a breath, her gaze never leaving her drink's surface.

Yang furrowed her brows. "What am I doing?" she asked.

"The deflecting."

 _Oh. That._

Yang pressed her lips together, stilling her mouth before she spoke impulsively. That seemed to be the theme for the day. Feeling the heat of an invisible spotlight, Yang shrank a little into her seat.

"I guess you're upset," Yang said, attempting some manner of stoicism while her body failed to reinforce it.

"A little." Blake turned her tired eyes on Yang. The light from the kitchen danced across the surface of her irises and underlined them with a gold glow, and despite their fatigue the sharpness they held hit Yang in the chest like a punch. She couldn't keep up her air of casual detachment. Her lips drew down, and she allowed her concern surface past the doting veneer.

They remained quiet for a long moment, the only sound being the din of food preparation in the kitchen. Nora had apparently taken leave for the moment.

"I'm sorry, Blake." Yang was quick with her words, like ripping the bandage off a raw wound.

Blake's expression softened. "No, Yang," she said, words quivered. "I was the one in the wrong. I didn't respect your personal space. I should have known better, and… I…"

"Hey, Blake…"

"I'm sorry." Her voice dropped, breaking into silence mid-apology.

Yang hadn't forgotten. She was as shocked to see Blake standing in the room as Blake seemed to be at her arrival. Confusion turned to embarrassment when she realized that Blake had gone over the pieces of her insecurity, seen the fractures in her well-maintained facade. Her pride was wounded, and her confidence was shaken. Most of all, her heart was broken. Never did she want Blake to see her in such a low state.

It was having someone dear in one's home while broken glass and picture frames laid scattered about. Her heart wanted Blake to stay near, but not if she would cause her pain like that.

"Why did you do it?" Yang asked, her voice soft and curious more than demanding.

Blake didn't respond right away. This time her eyes did move away, back to her tea. She took a sip, as though to steady herself and take more time to think. Blake's cup tapped loudly as it was set down and her hands folded together atop her knees.

"Because... you were avoiding me." She fought a frown on her face, but Blake held herself neutral, even though her eyes did reflect a fearful light. "I know that's selfish. I got caught up in the urge to find out why and… I was wrong."

Blake's ears wilted, and Yang knew that sign. Guilt, self-flagellation, loathing. Even now Blake resisted the show of weakness in the way she bit on the inside of her lower lip. If there was something Yang could do without seeing, it was watching Blake cry. It was enough of a stake in her heart that Blake felt like she had to be making this apology, and Yang didn't want to prolong the heartache any longer. Hers _or_ Blake's.

She swallowed the seed of doubt growing in her throat and allowed herself to simply act. Wordlessly she brushed an errant strand of hair from Blake's face. Unexpected as it was, it drew out a surprised glance, a little gasp. There was a half-smile waiting for her at the originating end of the gesture, an expression meant to convey forgiveness. It was a more eloquent response than whatever Yang could figure out in words. Sensing the need for elaboration, she attempted it anyway.

"I don't know what to do." Yang tried to keep up the smile, but her face went hard before the melancholy could trickle out, her demeanor become stone. "I'm just trying to put one foot in front of the other." It felt suddenly like she was sliding towards the precipice again.

Rarely was Yang afraid of kicking doors down or making leaps across dark expanses. A lack of fright termed either reckless or adventurous marked her from the time she began training to be a huntress. She always believed that by might of arm or strength of heart she could push through any hardship that confronted her or her friends.

But of all the adversarial thoughts that she had encountered, the one that she was a harmful presence to Blake, even unintentionally? It overwhelmed her with despair. It stung with the sort of pain that caused her to shove all thoughts aside, to act on instinct as if her survival depended on it.

Yang stared down at the cup and noticed the ripples in the surface of her tea. Her hand jittered.

She felt the blood drain from her fingertips. Her stomach clenched. She ground her teeth and the urge to hide away bubbled up from a void in her chest.

Suddenly, a soft touch enveloped her hand, a cool contact that sent a pleasant tingle rippling over her skin and up her spine.

The shakes ceased, instead replaced by the preoccupation with Blake's hand. The pad of her thumb caressed the ridges of Yang's hand, close to the scars on her knuckles, the wages of her earlier anger. Blake gathered the rest of her fingers in the palm, curled over the heel of Yang's hand.

Yang's chest rose with a quick breath, the sound of which seemed to give Blake hesitation. But she continued her ministrations after a second, and Yang glanced up at Blake and found her gazing off.

"Let me walk beside you," Blake said after a long moment. "Lean on me when you're tired. That's all I'm asking."

Yang assessed Blake for a few seconds. Determination shone through her tired exterior and it was clear that Blake had made her decision. Sighing, Yang took the teacup in her right hand and set it on the table. Her throat tightened with emotion.

"I don't want to take you down with me, Blake."

"I know," Blake said, her eyes shifting to regard Yang. A spark lit up those golden eyes and set her senses afire, such that it felt like electricity filled the air around them. "But you're willing to do anything for me, or any of us. You're carrying so much. Just please… don't shut me out."

Yang felt dumbstruck. For once in her life, she had no glib remark or ireful riposte in the chamber. Looking down at their joined hands, the way Blake's fit over hers like a mold, all Yang could do was blink a set of wide lilac eyes.

This was allowed to continue in silence until Blake, with a clearer voice, asked, "What are you thinking?"

Yang wasn't quite sure herself. Her mind was a storm. One voice screamed at the danger of letting Blake get too close to her fire, of the risk of burning her and pushing her away for good. Another reminded that Blake was a big girl and could make her own decisions, and more importantly was making the decision to be close to _her_. And lastly, there was the one that was telling her to own up to her mistakes.

"I can't let Ruby cover up for my screwups," Yang said after a thoughtful moment. She took an unsteady breath. "I need to tell Professor Ozpin and Uncle Qrow about yesterday."

Out of the corner of her eye, Yang saw Blake give a short nod.

"We'll tell them," said Blake, her voice a balm on her anxiety.

She wasn't used to sheepishly admitting mistakes, but Yang had a feeling that it would come to light anyway. Further, when it did, it would be her little sister in the line of fire. Of all things, she couldn't allow that, even if Ruby decided upon it. She wouldn't let her be an accomplice to her missteps.

And that besides, Yang did want to give the information they'd gathered to Haven for the benefit of Mistral and its people.

It was going to hurt.

But she knew that it was the right thing to do. Despite the outcome of the looming conversation, the warmth cupping her hand served to remind Yang that she would have at least one person to share the burden with. The gratitude she felt swelling within also tugged at her lips, and she smiled at Blake, simply thankful that she was there.

* * *

Not long after Ruby was up, the rest of the house followed. Weiss followed, then Oscar. Jaune was the unlucky one who had to wait last for the shower to free up. When everyone had finally congregated, Nora and Ren presented the most enormous spread of pancakes any of them had likely ever seen. To say that this was a pancake feast fit for a king of eld would have been an understatement. The sheer volume of pancakes would have presented a challenge for even the most ravenous groups of huntsmen and huntresses in training, but this group included Yang Xiao Long, Ruby Rose and Nora Valkyrie. The pancakes never stood a chance. The carnage that ensued stood alongside the Battle of Vacuo in its horror.

There was a warmth as the eight of them huddled around the table and bathed in the light of each other's company. Sweet maple and tangy butter flavored the air between the friendly banter and occasional fork fencing. For the most part, breakfast was filled with small talk and laughter, as well as speculation as to the next step in their journey. Cabin fever was beginning to set in among them, especially the members of JNR who had apparently been staying in the house for close to a month at this point.

When at last the platters lay empty and conversation gave way to reclining and groaning gratitude to the cooks, the process of cleaning up began. Since they were there to see it begin, Yang volunteered herself and Blake to help Nora and Ren with the dishes. Yang found that she was in a better place of mind to deal with Nora's insinuations, not that they happened anyhow; Nora inflicted most of her adoration on Ren, as usual.

When they finished up, Blake split from Yang to join the others in the yard for their morning exercises. Yang chose to step out of the house to wait for Qrow.

His semblance compelled him to stay away from the main group most of the time, just far enough to not risk influencing their fortunes but close enough to observe them in case of an emergency. Yang couldn't be sure of when he was arriving, but she knew he would eventually. When he finally showed up, Yang was waiting for him by the front door.

"Hey, Firecracker," he said as he sauntered up to the house. If Yang didn't know better, she'd think he was completely disinterested in anything she had to say. This was normally where their interactions would end lately, but...

"Hey, Qrow?"

He halted mid-step and looked back to Yang, having picked up the obvious inflection in her voice. He said nothing but the full attention of his narrowed red eyes was on her.

"Can you… get Ozpin? I need to talk to you guys."

Qrow narrowed his eyes further. Did he sense her unease? Did he already somehow know? Yang stuck out her chest and did her best to look unintimidated by the suspicion. Confident, businesslike. None of the things that she actually was.

"What's going on, Yang?" His tone was demanding and he was clearly not buying her act.

"I'd rather say it all just once," she said, her courage flaming out like an aging Dust engine. "So, uh, can you please get Oscar and meet us in the study?"

"Us?" He raised a brow.

"Yeah. Me and Blake."

Qrow initially seemed doubtful, his brows askew and nothing more. But the moment Yang brought her partner into the equation, Qrow's demeanor took a sharp turn from indifference to unvarnished irritation.

"Oh geez." He dragged a hand down his face. "What did you guys do?"

* * *

"What were you thinking?!"

Whatever Qrow was dreading, Yang was sure they had exceeded expectations. He was up. He was pacing. Unable to be still, Qrow shuffled off to the far end of the room and grumbled as he tugged the flask from his coat pocket.

Yang's shoulders were up close to her ears, her chin tucked into the neck guard of her jacket. She was a shell away from becoming a turtle herself. Were it so easy.

Blake seemed to be in a similarly miserable state, but Yang could see that she was trying to be strong and supportive. She remained quiet, still enough to pass as a statue, unemotional except for the frown that seemed to be permanently engraved in her face.

The study was a relatively small room. It was lined with fully populated bookshelves, and a writing desk in the corner by the lone window sat robbed of its chair. That was where Qrow had been sitting before the part about the Beringel sent him flying to his feet to take a breather. Presently, it lied on the floor upon its backrest.

Two couches occupied the center of the room, separated by a low table. Yang and Blake were seated on the one closest to the door, and Oscar sat across from them. He had a distinctly professorial air about him as he clutched the familiar cane in both hands and leaned upon it. The glint in his mottled hazel eyes indicated that it wasn't quite Oscar that sat across from the pair.

"Yeah," Yang said quietly. "I messed up." She took a small breath and immediately released it. "But it wasn't for nothing." Yang shifted and Blake gave her some space. She dug her scroll out of her jacket and set it on the table, its interface open. She tapped through a few menus and brought up a projection of the map with the coordinates to the mine highlighted in orange and red.

"Anyway, this is where the mine's at. I thought… Haven Academy might want to know about it."

Oscar, or rather Ozpin, studied the holographic projection for a long moment. He gave a nod, apparently satisfied with whatever he had seen in the map, and tapped his cane on the wooden floor.

"I must admit that I am impressed by the way that you turned a misadventure into an opportunity, Miss Xiao Long."

A small smirk tipped Yang's lips. Despite her feelings about Ozpin's trustworthiness, he was still their mentor, and some validation did go a short way towards softening the blow to her pride.

Ozpin looked back up at the map. "As you may have learned, Mistral had many Dust mines in the area that it operated with the aid of Mantle. In the years following the Great War, many of these locations were lost or abandoned." He paused and glanced warily towards Blake. Yang followed his gaze, and Blake nodded as though she understood something unsaid.

"Needless to say," Ozpin continued, "these mines are places with high levels of Grimm activity. The two of you are quite lucky to have survived, as unprepared and isolated as you were."

"I know," Yang said, feeling her resolve dim. "I'll be more careful from now on."

"Hm. I trust you will be, Miss Xiao Long." Ozpin looked back towards Blake. "You've had little to say, Miss Belladonna."

Blake sat up straight when she was addressed, her eyes widening suddenly.

"Care to share your thoughts?"

She looked towards Yang, as though to ask for guidance, but Yang had nothing to offer but a shrug. As far as she knew, they'd already explained everything. The mines, the mysterious Grimm, the trek through the woods. Only a few personal details were omitted, something she felt that she and Blake were on the same page about.

Looking back towards Ozpin, Blake opened her mouth to speak. But she stopped; a soft crinkle sounded as she sat back in the couch. It was then that she reached into the inside of her coat and pulled out the map of the mines.

"Whoa." Yang widened her eyes. "I forgot you still had that."

"I did, too," she said as she dropped the folded up square on the table top. "This should help anyone who ventures into that… place." Blake didn't bother to veil her contempt for the facility.

"Fascinating." Ozpin leaned back and looked over at Qrow, who was busy with composing himself as he growled at a bookshelf.

"Lien for your thoughts, Qrow?" asked Ozpin, his tone half mocking the disgruntled man.

"Oh, I've got a lot of them," he snarled. He rounded immediately on Yang.

"You need to get a grip, Yang. You're gonna get yourself killed."

Yang scowled and opened her mouth to protest, but immediately her jaw shut and words of rebellion she wasn't even sure of growled unintelligibly through her teeth. _Don't say anything, don't say anything…_

Qrow tilted his head, his folded arms tensing across his chest. "If not yourself, then someone else." Yang needed no elaboration on what Qrow was implying. She growled again, but she managed to remain wordless. He wasn't wrong, but she already knew that; it was her awareness of that mistake that made her come clean. Getting the same lesson she had already learned the hard way made her feel patronized.

No words were shared for a long moment, and the air stifled.

"Whatever," Qrow finally muttered, the screwcap of his flask the only other sound in the room.

Yang clutched at the couch cushion with her left hand to still it. Her anger bubbled beneath the surface, but she was determined to keep it lidded. Instead, frustration manifested on her face. She put the table in the center of her vision, and if she stared any harder she might have set it on fire.

"Well, at any rate…" Ozpin took a sip from the lone coffee mug on the table. He looked up and drifted his eyes over Yang, then Blake. "The two of you have uncovered an ongoing problem here in Mistral." With a serious look he nodded to Qrow.

"Yeah, that's still a thing…" Qrow rubbed the back of his neck, looking exhausted all of a sudden.

"What are you guys talking about?" Blake looked between everyone, genuinely out of the loop.

"The missing huntsmen," Yang said without looking up.

"Yeah," Qrow answered gruffly. "When we got into Mistral, I tried to meet up with some old buddies of mine." He walked over to the window and leaned a hand against the wall, stare fixed on the outside. "But they're all gone. Every single one of 'em. Missing or worse, and Leo's the one that sold 'em out. I'm sure of it."

"The loss of so many seasoned huntsmen and huntresses has led to a crisis in Mistral," Ozpin said, elaborating. "The creatures of Grimm have overrun previously secure areas, and stronger individuals now roam closer to settlements than ever before. There are positions that Mistral's security forces cannot afford to let fall, like the relay towers, so the farms and villages suffer."

"So let's help them," said Blake, her voice clear and resolved. All eyes turned on her, and a small smile tugged at the end of Yang's lips.

"Spoken like a true huntress." Ozpin smiled wryly. But quickly, a more grave air stole the twinkle from his eyes. "We will speak to the council and obtain clearance. However…"

Yang furrowed her brows and leaned forward, her hair spilling over her shoulders. "However?"

Ozpin leaned forward, supporting his weight on the cane.

"You will be precluded from participating in these missions."

Off to her side, Blake gasped. It took a little longer for Yang to process the statement. She felt her features unwind, fall slack as though disconnected from their muscles. Her mouth came open in disbelief.

Yang's skin felt cold, but her chest burned like a crucible. An anger was rising in her heart and she could feel its beating in her head.

"What?" Yang said in a hush.

"It is regrettable," Ozpin continued, "but after the ordeal you and Miss Belladonna have endured, I believe it is wise for the two of you to take it easy for a few days."

"No!" Yang thundered to her feet, stopping short of throwing the table. "You can't! Ruby and Weiss, they—!"

"Yang—"

"Qrow? You're agreeing with him?!"

"Miss Xiao Long, please calm down."

The heat had spread throughout her body until even her hair felt like it was on fire. Yang's chest heaved with harsh pants as she tried to control her racing thoughts.

This was it.

She'd revealed too much of her weakness. Her brokenness. She was being cast aside like a liability when the rest of her team needed her. It was just as she feared—she trusted in herself to do the right thing and it exploded in her face.

Her legs wobbled and she fell back into the couch. She looked towards Blake, who was quiet throughout the outburst. Her ears were flattened out and a fearful pallor had come over her. Yang bit on her lip and hung her head between her knees. She gripped at her hair as her head throbbed.

Ozpin cleared his throat. As the atmosphere cooled down, he spoke. "Nobody here doubts your passion, Miss Xiao Long. But I sense that you are still in need of rest. Take it, and don't worry about your sister. She is a fine young huntress, as are the rest of your group."

Yang shook her head weakly. She looked over to Blake, as though for guidance, but she herself looked defeated, in a way. Blake expressed her discontent in a more subtle way; her eyes were fixed at a point on the ground, and her shoulders slumped.

"Qrow?" Ozpin said, turning in his seat. "Gather the rest of the students in the living room. We should discuss this with them."

"Right." Qrow took a swig from his flask and regarded Yang skeptically.

Yang shook. She was being left behind again. She had crawled back from her maiming, reconditioned herself, struggled with crippling illusions day and night, overcome her anxieties to confront _Raven,_ and retrieved the damned relic. Still it wasn't enough.

It would never be enough.

Adrenaline flooded her system and Yang pushed to her feet.

"Whatever," she spat, and her heavy bootfalls carried across the study. Yang restrained herself from ripping the door off its hinges before she stormed through the house. She registered familiar voices but avoided all glances, ignored all greetings, and she strode across the parlor to the stairwell leading down.

Finally, she arrived in the yard. Her legs folded and she hit the ground hard on her backside. Shakily Yang released a breath she must have been holding from the moment she left the study, but she got out here so quickly it couldn't have been that long. Her thoughts swam, and for a while it felt like she was back in the colorless burn of her dreams.

* * *

They had decided to accept the mission, and more if time permitted. It made sense; the need for huntsmen did not grow less because the academy was not in session, and they would need funds for whatever lay ahead of them anyway. In the course of helping the people of Mistral, they would be helping themselves as well. Ruby and Jaune were quick to pull the trigger on the suggestion, thinking it a great idea. Weiss was less eager, but couldn't argue with the pragmatism of it. Nora trembled at the promise of wanton destruction, and Ren was simply glad to be able to contribute to easing the woes of fellow Anima natives.

Oscar seemed reluctant to stay behind, but he admitted he was still too much of a novice to accompany even junior huntsmen on a mission. Besides that, the relic needed to be guarded. Few were more qualified to do that than Ozpin. Between him, and Qrow, and Blake and Yang, the sentiment seemed to be that the mysterious lamp could only be more secure if it was locked back up in the vault from which it came.

But there was a glaring omission from the proceedings, and it was that of Yang. Blake to a lesser extent—she was among them when the decision was made—but Yang's absence was as conspicuous as a day when the sun didn't rise. When it had been made clear that neither Yang nor Blake would be joining them, the sense of excitement instantly soured.

Blake sat amongst the throng, despondent and distracted. Everyone saw Yang as she stalked through, and since then she had been sitting in the yard, brooding. That was early in the afternoon; now, the day grew long and the sky yellowed with age. Long since plunged into the house's shadow, the yard grew cold, and soon the sunset would be upon the tumbled land.

When finally the group dispersed to make their preparations, Blake and her teammates went down the stairwell and stopped short of the yard.

Yang was seated in the same position that she had been in for hours already. Wisps of her blonde hair trailed listlessly in the easterly winds, and the world around her seemed darker even than the shadow the house created. Blake frowned, a pang on her heart, as she looked back towards Ruby and Weiss, begging for help as loudly as her eyes alone could manage.

Weiss planted her hands on her hips and huffed. "Shouldn't we go speak to her?" Less a question than a statement, Weiss' hand cut impatient shapes in the air, while her eyes glowed with genuine concern.

"Yeah…" Ruby did not sound confident, however. Blake understood; when Yang withdrew, it was difficult if not impossible to reach her.

For her part, Blake felt shackled by their experience yesterday. Was it right to approach Yang when she was feeling weak? Did she actually want to be alone? The same feeling of urgency, the desire to push upon Yang's outer defenses, grew dangerously strong.

"Yang?" Ruby called out, her voice meek. Yang's shoulders gave a start, and clearly she wasn't expecting company. Stiffly, Yang straightened out her posture and looked back. Her hair obscured most of her face, but Blake could clearly see the shine on Yang's eyes.

"Hey," Yang croaked. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Hey, Ruby. Weiss… Blake." She looked back towards the cliff, her elbows gathered on her knees.

Together, the three of them walked up to Yang and picked a spot. They sat around her, and Blake noted the hesitation that she and Ruby attended her with. Weiss showed no such trepidation to approaching their melancholy teammate, and Blake found a new admiration for her confidence.

When Yang showed no protest at them being there, Ruby scooted close and draped her arms over her shoulders. Yang squeezed her eyes shut and placed her left hand up on one of Ruby's elbows, returning the embrace the best that she could.

"Shouldn't you and Weiss be getting ready to go?" Yang said, chiding words with a tone too weak to be a scold.

Gradually, the younger sister tightened her embrace.

"Why did you tell them?" Ruby asked, and her voice was more pointed this time. Blake found it odd for Ruby to seem upset, but then it made sense since they had a plan and Yang, for whatever reason, decided to go against it.

Yang hiccuped a laugh, dry and rueful as the air around them. "I couldn't let you take the L for me. I'm your Big Sis, not a big sissy."

Ruby slumped sadly, her eyes swimming with conflicted emotion. Unable or unwilling to continue with words, Ruby buried her face in the bushel of Yang's wild mane. Her arms squeezed around Yang's shoulders. They swayed gently, although it wasn't clear which one of the two started it. In observing them, Blake saw the familial bond that tied them together, stronger than Atlesian steel and pacific as the Shallow Sea. The force of Ruby's love was almost overwhelming to Blake, and she began to feel like an intruder on an intimate moment.

She turned her eyes to her idle hands. A curse on herself rose at the back of her mind for her inability to act so freely, so unbound by trepidation. Even presently, she became aware of how selfish her thoughts were, turning to herself when Yang sat brokenhearted in this cold place.

Blake glanced across Ruby towards Weiss, and Weiss returned her look with a piercing stare. She widened her eyes and silently questioned Weiss' look, furrowing her brows and pointing at herself as though she'd been bled by Weiss' glare. Weiss shook her head rapidly and pointed sharply towards Yang. It dawned on Blake what Weiss was trying to say.

 _She needs you._

Blake raised a hand and hesitated, doubting her approach. She took a peek back over Ruby's shoulder and saw that Weiss was watching her in kind, her eyes sparking with wordless criticism. Relenting, Blake closed the distance between herself and Yang. Her hand touched upon Yang's knee and invited a longing fluorite gaze.

Yang took her hand off of Ruby's elbow momentarily, prompting the girl to pull her head out of her sister's hair to see what was happening. Blake found Yang's hand extended to her, beckoning. Blake glanced quickly between Yang and Ruby, wordlessly seeking permission. Ruby simply smiled as she nestled against Yang's hair, the vaguest of nods removing all doubt.

Blake tentatively laid her fingers on Yang's hand; she was promptly pulled into the embrace by her partner. Enveloped by her warmth, Blake tried to express even a fraction of the adoration that Ruby showed for Yang, not to compete but to contribute. She flicked an ear as she heard Ruby whisper, "Get in here, Weiss!" And soon, Weiss also was curled up under Yang's other arm.

They sat together like that for a while, it seemed, even though it wasn't that long. Blake was acutely aware of the changes in Yang's demeanor since they had approached her. Her head was rested against Yang's shoulder, close to her chest. Her heartbeat was strong and calm, and her breaths were deep and steady. When the sky was streaked in red and gold and the crickets emerged from their hideaways to ring in the evening, Yang gave an appreciative squeeze to her teammates before releasing her hold on them.

"I'm sorry, guys." She sniffed and thumbed her nose. "I'm letting you guys down."

"Don't apologize!" Ruby said, still clinging to Yang's shoulders.

"You've got nothing to be sorry about," said Weiss, chipping in.

Blake searched for words. Her quiet was as conspicuous as if she were screaming, and the attention of her teammates fell on her.

"Can you guys… give us a minute?"

Ruby and Weiss gave each other a curious look, and Ruby sought Yang's counsel.

"You guys go on ahead," said Yang, patting Ruby's joined arms amicably. "You've got a big day tomorrow. Don't let us keep you up."

"Okay." Ruby sounded uncertain, but she dropped from her sister's back and got to her feet. "... I love you," she said in a small voice.

"Love you too, sis."

Ruby squeaked suddenly, and she found her wrist seized by Weiss. "Okay, let's go," she said. "We're overstaying our welcome."

Blake blinked as she caught what seemed like an approving glance from Weiss. She and Yang watched the two go, disappear into the training room door. Blake couldn't suppress a chuckle at the way Ruby flailed her free arm waving goodbye. Another sniff from Yang shifted her attention back to her partner.

"Did you want to talk, Blake?" Yang moved to sit on her heels and brushed her thumb under her eyes to dry them.

"Nothing too heavy," Blake said, putting a small smile on her face. "I just wanted to say, it's okay to take some time for yourself and rest."

Yang tilted her head, and Blake wondered if the words sounded familiar to her yet.

"The stuff I told you to get you to go to the dance?"

Blake gently raised her brows, and a smirk played across her lips. "You're telling me that you told me that story about your mom and the concern about my fixation on the White Fang _just_ to get me to go to the dance?"

Lilac eyes went wide, mouth open, and Yang generally looked like she'd just gotten her tail stuck in a trap. "N-no, of course not!" The way her eyes darted it looked like Yang was searching for an excuse. "I was just worried you were going to burn yourself out—" The way Yang's words trailed off, it seemed like she realized the parallels at play.

Blake simply watched, her eyes a rose gold with the red sky's light. The ends of her lips quirked upwards, but she kept a mien of studiousness.

"You said that to me in the mines, too." Yang put a hand through her hair and frowned at the ground. "I've been a jerk." She sighed. "Can you… forgive me?"

"Can you forgive yourself?"

Yang raised her eyes, and it looked like she had never been faced with a more impossible question before. She took a long moment to look inward. Her gaze was unsteady, and her lips pinched together as an internal fight took place, something perhaps like the shadowboxing Blake had witnessed here in the dawn.

"Yeah." Yang took a breath. She looked up and into Blake's eyes. "Yeah. I can."

"Then yes."

With that exchange of words, it felt like a shadow had lifted from between them. Yang appeared to take on a semblance of luminosity as she rose to her feet, light and airy as the starlight itself. Blake stood after her and dusted the seat of her coat. The distraction took Blake's attention off of Yang long enough for the taller woman to cross the space between them unexpectedly. When Blake turned back around, she was caught in an embrace. Blake sank into it, sighing in relief.

She knew that it wasn't done. The path they walked had to be taken a step at a time, a day at a time. But for the moment, Blake was content. Unlike at the cliffs, she sensed no ambivalence or hesitation. Yang had finally decided to reach out to her.

They stood together in the firelight of the retreating day for a little while longer. When at last the stars began to rise in the east, Yang nudged Blake, who was nearly asleep on her feet, and together they went back inside to rejoin their teammates.

* * *

 **I think the main takeaway from this chapter is that Nora likes pancakes. These updates are getting beefier and beefier despite merciless editing. I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing, eh? If you have an opinion on it, or anything else in the story, please feel free to let me know. Feedback is always appreciated!**


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